


It's you who'll have further to fall

by orphan_account



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Ending, F/M, M/M, Star Trek: Into Darkness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 11:04:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 23,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on <a href="http://strek-id-kink.livejournal.com/1695.html?thread=48031#t48031">this prompt over at the Into Darkness kink meme</a>.</p><p> </p><p>  <b>Spoilers abound:</b></p><p> </p><p>"Kirk," Khan breaks in, his voice winded from the pressure Spock's weight puts upon his lungs, "he is injured?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title for this comes from the song _Titanium_. I thought it seemed fitting for Khan.

"Spock, stop! STOP!" Nyota cries desperately. "He's the only way to save Kirk."

For a moment, it seems as though Spock will not be able to restrain his rage. There is murder in his eyes, pure and savage. This must have been what his ancestors looked like, once upon a time - the naked emotion, the blatant thirst for blood. Then, her words register, and he goes utterly still. "Explain."

"Dr. McCoy thinks that Khan's blood can bring him back. But he used up all of the sample he took in his experiments, so we need to take more."

The thought of allowing the monster beneath him to continue drawing air nearly brings Spock physical pain. Everything that has happened in the last forty-eight hours has been a result of this abomination of a man, and that cannot go unpunished. Yet to exact retribution now will surely end all hope of ever recovering the captain, and that is not a path Spock ever wishes to walk. Jim went against the Prime Directive because he was Spock's friend, and Spock did not understand the sacrifice he was willing to make at the time, but he is fully cognizant of it now, and he is a Vulcan changed. He can do no less than sacrifice the ancient need in his warrior's blood to save Jim.

"Kirk," Khan breaks in, his voice winded from the pressure Spock's weight puts upon his lungs, "he is injured?"

With no little satisfaction, Spock notes that bearing down upon his captive's chest is enough to render him silent, but not enough to suffocate him fully. "My captain is dead, Khan. And you, it would seem, are the only available avenue to bring him back to us. It is for this, and this alone, that I will suffer you to live. You asked me how I could be expected to break bone when I could not bring myself to break the rules, but you see, our orders were to execute you upon sight. If breaking a few bones is necessary in order to see that done, I believe you will find that I can do it very easily now. If you wish for your life to continue, you will come with us, and you will allow us to take the blood my captain needs for a transfusion."

There is just enough breath left in Khan's lungs for him to offer his surrender, and he does so whole-heartedly. Spock knows better than to trust in it. He has seen what happens when this man surrenders. 

Even so, he rises, pulling Khan along with him.

"What has been done with the captain in the interim?" Surely something has been done to preserve his brain functions. As soon as Kirk breathed his last, Spock had him beamed straight to Sickbay, vainly hoping that he could be revived. Inevitably, Dr. McCoy pronounced him dead upon arrival. How long had it been between that moment and this madcap scheme occurred to the good doctor? Had it been longer than six minutes? Whatever the case, Spock will still take the chance given to them. Perhaps the transfusion will be enough to negate the possible damage to Jim's neural pathways. 

Nyota glances at Khan warily before admitting what Dr. McCoy had done. Their captive is expressionless, belying no hint as to his thoughts on the matter. Either way, Spock cares little. The man's comrade is still reasonably well preserved. It is enough.

"There's supposed to be a shuttle coming for us in a few minutes," Nyota reports. "We didn't have enough power to transport anyone back to the ship."

Spock wonders if it is wise to discuss such things in front of Khan, but he says nothing. As soon as they have the blood they require, Khan will return to the brig, and nothing short of Jim's express orders will convince Spock to remove him. He finds such an eventuality unlikely.


	2. Chapter 2

When the shuttle arrives, Spock politely declines Ensign Matthew’s attempts to relieve him of his charge. He escorts Khan bodily to the back of the shuttle and personally sees that he is strapped securely to his seat. If his hands carry out the job more roughly than is strictly required, none of the officers present offer any objections.

The journey back to the _Enterprise_ is tense and mostly silent. Spock keeps his eyes trained upon Khan throughout its entirety, unwilling to chance even for a moment letting him leave his attention. He trusts the security officers implicitly, but Khan was able to con or overpower Jim and even Spock himself on more than one occasion. Such an event cannot be allowed to occur again. Khan meets his gaze evenly, though his eyes appear to have lost some of their ice. He seems pensive, a fact which sets Spock even more on edge. Nothing good ever comes from that calculating mind.

Spock resigns himself to remaining on his guard until the transfusion is complete and Khan is contained. Perhaps even beyond that. Though he himself helped design the security measures in the brig, Spock would not put gaining his freedom past Khan. It must never be forgotten that the _Enterprise_ still holds all that the man loves in this life, and the lengths he will go to protect them are evidenced in the condition of the ship and the lives of the Starfleet officers he took.

Upon their return to the _Enterprise_ , Spock releases Khan from his chair and notes in an undertone, “There are six highly trained Starfleet officers present, and many more aboard this ship. Resistance at this time would be unwise.”

Khan’s lips move and he draws air. Before he can do more, Spock orders, “Do not speak. Thus far, I have allowed you to remain conscious. That does not, however, have to continue to be the case.” Gratifyingly, Khan chooses to stay quiet.

Without further ceremony, the officers proceed to the Medical Bay. The four security officers surround Spock and Khan, following at Nyota’s heels.

Though they pass plenty of people in the halls, none of them hinder their progress. Spock concludes that Sulu must have made some sort of announcement, and he resolves to leave a commendation in the Lieutenant’s file when more pressing matters have been handled. He has proved himself a most satisfactory acting captain. Certainly he has handled this new position with more aplomb than Ensign Chekov, though Spock acknowledges that this is not the navigator’s fault. There is a great deal of difference between shadowing someone when conditions are optimal, and assuming his position when the crew is put in a situation specifically designed for the ship’s functions to fail.

Carol Marcus greets them when they reach the Medical Bay. The security officers station themselves at the doors, and Nyota chooses to stand with them, not wishing to be in the way. Marcus leads the way over to the biobed where Dr. McCoy stands, looking anxious and exhausted, but determined to do whatever needs to be done. Already he has the device necessary for taking Khan’s blood, and Spock ushers the man over to him.

“What took you so long?” Dr. McCoy demands. “Did you stop to see the sights before you got here? Take a detour to the Observation Deck?”

Still watching Khan, Spock’s reply is drier than the desert of his homeworld once was. “If you would prefer to retrieve the next fugitive with life-saving genetics after he escapes our custody, you need only say so, Doctor. I will gladly make note of it in your file.”

Were he anyone else, the slightly unhinged look in Dr. McCoy’s eyes as he glares at Spock would be cause for alarm. However, Spock has come to accept it as a matter of course, particularly when something is wrong with Jim Kirk. When it comes to the care of his best friend, Dr. McCoy is as fierce as a le’matya, and twice as terrifying. The doctor mutters something rather unflattering about Spock under his breath and then orders Khan to sit down, which the man does readily enough.

Spock clasps his hands together behind his back and waits.

When Dr. McCoy has drawn enough blood, he looks at Khan. “Look, you killed a lot of good people, and I don’t doubt that you’d be more than willing to kill a whole lot more if they ever got in your way. But the blood I just took from you is what will bring Jim back to me, so I guess I may as well say thank you.”

Examining him, Khan remarks, “You care for your captain a great deal.”

Dr. McCoy sighs heavily and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well. Someone’s got to, since the idiot can’t seem to care enough about himself. May as well be me.”

Before anything else is said, Spock interjects. The doctor has always been disturbingly open about his feelings, especially regarding the people he loves. Spock does not wish for him to say anything more about Jim in Khan’s presence; the idea of the man coming to know Jim on a more personal level is discomfiting. “If you have everything you need, Doctor, we will take our leave.”

He turns to Spock quickly. “Hmm?” he asks, and then he gives a gruff, “Oh. Yeah, that’s everything. Get out of here. You’re crowding my Sickbay.”

Spock raises an eyebrow and declines to comment, choosing instead to tell Khan, who is eying him as though he understands exactly what motivated him to hasten their departure, “Come with me.”

He comes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear we'll have some Conscious Kirk soon. Spock just won't shut up and let me summarize things like a good little half-Vulcan.
> 
> Also: Is it Ready Room, or ready room? Inquiring minds want a general consensus.
> 
> Edit: I went ahead and nixed the capital letters anyway. They were jarring, and I didn't like them.

Spock has Khan searched when they reach the cell that will be his home for the foreseeable future. He offers no objection, allowing Matthews and Rolling to take the phaser in the seam of his coat, along with the long, thin blade inside his right boot in stoic silence. In the end, it is Khan himself who hands over his pocket knife, concealed so cleverly in the hollowed out heel of his left boot that the security officers would not have found it without his cooperation.

The ready compliance leaves Spock uneasy, and he steps closer to the remaining two security officers. “The two of you will remain here for the remainder of your shift and then someone else will arrive to relieve you. I want this cell guarded at all times.”

“Shall I comm Commander Giotto for you, sir? Have him set up a rotation?”

“No, Ensign Roo. I shall discuss the matter with him myself.” He has other concerns to address with the head of security, as well.

The search is concluded, and Khan watches as Spock keys in the code that will separate him from the rest of the ship, doing nothing to hide it as he memorizes the digits. Spock eyes him coldly when the last figure is entered. “If I find that you have disturbed or harmed a member of this crew in any way, I can assure you that you will not find the consequences of your actions pleasant.”

Appallingly, Khan is _amused_. “Come, Spock. Why would I waste my time causing trouble now? If I wished it, I would have done so the moment the shuttle arrived. Instead, I came willingly, and do you know why?” The smile that stretches his lips and deepens the crow’s feet framing his eyes is slow and deliberate, and Spock knows precisely what he will say next. “It is because I am exactly where I want to be.”

It is only the knowledge that the lack of a barrier between them is an illusion that prevents Spock from charging toward him and finishing what he started before Nyota came and stayed his hands. Somehow, the man before him knows exactly how to consistently make his emotions consume him and cloud his good judgment. The only other person in possession of this skill now lies frozen in a private room in the _Enterprise_ Medical Bay, and after the first time, he apologized and explained his motivations for it. Spock had forgiven him before the conversation even occurred, but Jim said that he still felt guilty over his actions, and he promised to only ever use Spock’s emotions against him as a last resort, for the purpose of saving lives.

Spock has no doubt that Khan’s reasons are far less altruistic. His anger _burns_ , and he knows that he will have to meditate soon, to reclaim the control he so desperately needs, and yet there is still much to be done. A slender, cool hand finds his where it is balled up against his thigh, coaxing his fingers to unclench. He twines his fingers through those brushing his own and breathes in, letting the small hand in his be his anchor. That small bit of contact, meant only for those closest to him, is enough to soothe the flames raging inside of him and allow him to turn away.

He feels Khan’s eyes following him with every step he takes.

\---

As soon as they depart from the brig, Spock squeezes the hand holding his and utters a warm, “Thank you, Nyota.”

She squeezes back and then lets go, nodding as she does. “Of course.”

What has he done to deserve this woman? Her strength and unwavering support are a constant source of amazement for him, and he knows that he could search the entirety of the universe and never find her equal. Unbidden, he remembers the words she spoke to him on the confiscated transport. He’d known that they were having problems, but to hear her saying that he did not care about her feelings - nothing could be further from the truth. Glancing at her, he takes in the signs of exhaustion underneath the professionalism to which she currently clings.

Though it is self-serving, he is grateful to have a distraction from recent events. “Perhaps,” he begins delicately, “you might take this time to rest, as our shift does not begin for another 7.3 hours.”

“And what will you be doing?” she asks, a familiar undercurrent of tension creeping into her tone.

Looking straight ahead, Spock replies, “I will be meeting with Commander Giotto, after which I will join Commander Scott in Engineering-”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. Talk to Giotto if you have to, but then you’re coming to our quarters, and you’re going to sleep next to me in our bed, and _then_ , when we wake up, you can do whatever else it is you feel like you need to do.” She says it all firmly, in that way that she has that lets Spock know in no uncertain terms that she expects her words to become reality.

Spock blinks. He supposes the repairs in Engineering will proceed adequately with what personnel are already stationed there, and Lieutenant Sulu is performing admirably in his stead. Perhaps certain things can wait. “Am I to understand, then, that I am no longer meant to sleep on the couch?”

Beside him, Nyota softens, her lips curling up at the corners. “You are.”

They enter the turbolift together and part ways when the lift reaches the floor containing their quarters.

Spock continues on to the captain’s ready room. He comms Commander Giotto on his way there. When Spock arrives at his destination, the head of security is already standing just outside the door. They enter the ready room, and Spock tries to ignore the feeling that they should not be in here without Jim. No matter how wrong it seems after the time he has spent serving under his command, Spock is well within his rights to use the spaces available to the captain when he is not fit for duty.

Even so, he decides that the next time he requires a private place for the purpose of conversing with a member of the crew, he will hold the meeting in his personal lab. It is, admittedly, less professional, but that is a small price to pay in exchange for eliminating future instances where his surroundings present such a distraction.

He opts to sit in his usual chair, in lieu of occupying the head of the table, and then he begins to outline the current situation with their prisoner. Commander Giotto listens intently and then offers his support in favor of stationing guards in the brig. He then suggests placing some of his men in the hangar containing Khan’s crew, in the event that their other security measures fail, and the man manages to find his way to those he claims to consider his family. Spock approves.

“Mister Spock,” the commander says when they are done and preparing to take their leave. Spock stops and turns, facing Giotto once more. “Sir, why _did_ he come back?”

Spock is quiet for a moment, uncertain in the face of a question he has been considering privately since he spoke with Khan in the brig. Ultimately, he responds the only way he can:

“I do not know.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friendly reminder that Spock and Kirk clasp hands in _Star Trek I_ after he melds with V'ger, and that although he loves Kirk differently in this fic, he still loves him and Uhura _equally_.
> 
> Part of this chapter is inspired by a scene in _The Avengers_.

Over the course of the next three days, the crew focuses on repairing what they can before returning to spacedock. Spock spreads his time as much as he is able between his duties as acting captain, as another able-bodied engineer, and when he can find the time, as a concerned friend. When Dr. McCoy first comms him with news on Jim’s condition, it is to tell him that his vitals have all begun functioning once more. Spock is sitting reluctantly in the captain’s chair on the bridge at the time, and so he does not have the time or the privacy to process his own emotions. Uhura catches his eye from her place at the communications station, and the relief in her gaze is a palpable thing; it is, he thinks, too soon for joy, as they do not yet know what the long-term effects of the captain’s death and subsequent revival will be, but for now, the hope they have is enough.

The doctor continues to comm Spock regularly with updates on Jim’s condition, and Spock makes it a point to visit the room where he lays before and after his shift on the bridge. Uhura joins him once, but the sight of their captain laying so still and silent distresses her, and she opts to wait until he wakes to return.

Spock takes the time alone with his friend to speak of whatever occupies his mind, remembering that such things are thought to help patients who are unconscious. The first time he does this, Dr. McCoy walks in the room to check Jim’s vitals. Though he does not apologize, he makes it a point after that to wait until Spock leaves to perform his duties. Spock suspects it is as much for himself as it is for the doctor.

They respect each other, and though they will never admit it, they care for each other. That does not mean that they wish to share their vulnerabilities. Those, they save for Jim.

Every rotation of the shift, Spock receives a report on Khan. Apart from unnerving several of the less experienced security officers, the man has done nothing untoward in his captivity. Spock does not trust it. More than once, he has considered venturing to the brig to better discern his motives, but then he remembers the way that Khan’s words ensnared Jim, and he discards the notion. Though he does not find the probability of falling into another one of his machinations high, Spock does not wish risk it.

This is why he does not know until after the fact that Khan has tricked an ensign into revealing the location of the cryogen tubes. Ensign Reynolds reports to Spock of his own volition upon completing his shift, his pallor a green alarmingly close to Spock’s own for a human male who is normally an optimal specimen of good health, and his bearing defeated. Assuming correctly that Reynolds fears retribution, Spock tells him, “Do not trouble yourself, Ensign. Khan has proven himself a master of manipulation. His success does not reflect poorly upon you.”

Ensign Reynolds sighs gratefully, his shoulders slumping even as he remains at parade rest. “Thank you, sir.”

Inclining his head, Spock continues, “That being said, perhaps it would be wise to have Commander Giotto assign someone to guard Khan in your stead. There are plenty of other tasks of equal importance that you might perform elsewhere.”

If it is possible, Reynolds looks even more relieved at this. “Thank you, sir.”

Spock merely says, “Dismissed, Ensign,” in reply, but he believes that Reynolds understands his welcome is implied.

After the door closes behind the ensign, Spock leans back in his chair, placing his hands together and bringing the tips of his index fingers to rest against his lips. He stares at nothing as he ponders this latest complication. What should he do to prevent Khan from influencing more of the crew? He feels the coolness of his fingers against his mouth, and he tenses.

\---

The device he crafts is small and simple, but effective, nonetheless. He expects Khan to exhibit the first true signs of rebellion once he learns its purpose, but he allows Spock to put it in place without struggle or comment. The mocking laughter in his eyes seems to be retaliation enough. It seems to ask Spock, “Do you see? Do you see how far I can drive you? How much it delights me to bring you so low? You may be the one to steal my voice, but what does it matter if I steal your honor, your precious morality, in return?”

Spock takes care to remain devoid of expression, turning away from Khan and sealing his cell once more.

That evening, he spends an extra hour sitting with Jim. He is only marginally comforted once he leaves.

The following days are spent running interference with Starfleet headquarters. The admiralty demands their presence, but Spock does not wish to dock until they are certain the captain will make a full recovery. He informs them that the ship is in a state of grave disrepair, and that it will be some time before they are able to dock safely. Both things are true, though they are unrelated. Spock does not believe he is mistaken in thinking that Jim would approve.

He tells him as much the next morning. Jim smiles in his sleep.

\---

When Jim finally opens his eyes, Spock is there.

He tunes out the banter between Dr. McCoy and their captain, content to simply take Jim in. It has been too long since he has seen life in his friend’s eyes, listened to his laughter. His voice is understandably weak at first, but no less welcome for it.

Eventually, Dr. McCoy leaves the room, and the two of them are alone.

They watch each other silently, both appreciating the fact that this moment is actually possible, and Spock is reminded of his older counterpart’s words to him in the hangar that led him to where he is now. Perhaps this is not how it happened in the alternate timeline, but they shared what both of them believed to be Jim’s last moments, and because of that, their friendship truly will define them - in ways even the other Spock cannot realize.

He steps forward and clasps Jim’s hand. “Welcome back.”

For a moment, Spock wonders if he will try to make light of it. Perhaps he will grin and ask an insouciant, “Did you miss me?” But he smiles a little and thanks him instead. “It’s good to be back.”


	5. Interlude I

Jim wakes up feeling... different.

There is a sense that he has been pulled out of some incredible dream, and cannot hold on to the slightest detail, but there is something more that he is fairly certain should not be.

He isn’t lying when he tells Bones that he hasn’t gained any latent homicidal tendencies, but there is a subtle shift in the way he sees the world. His mind has always worked quickly, flitting from one idea to the next, leaving everything half-formed until he has a need to share with the rest of the class. Now there is an edge to those thoughts, as though they are sharper, more defined. If he had to explain it to someone else, he might compare it to a butterfly awakening to discover that its wings are now made of steel. The heart of the butterfly remains the same, but it has the potential to become something other than the gentle creature of beauty it always has been. It has the potential to be dangerous.

He has the fleeting thought that those who die should stay dead, and then he sees Spock standing at the foot of his bed, and all he can think about is how much he would give to have this moment, were their positions reversed. If he ever had reason to contemplate a world without Spock, he knows he would reorder the universe itself to change their fate.

As Bones turns his eyes to his tricorder, Jim responds to his grumbling and griping with as much of his usual good humor as he can muster while he attempts to get his bearings in light of the nebulous change he can only assume is a result of the unorthodox method of his revival. Happy as he is to be able to see Bones again, he finds himself letting out a small sigh of relief once his fussing is finished and he strides out of the room with a little more excitement in his steps than normal.

Looking away from the door after it slides closed, Jim meets his remaining visitor’s gaze. Perhaps most people would not notice the difference, but he can see the traces of exhaustion and other signs of stress in his friend’s face, mingling with the happiness that at least some of the anxiety is past. He pushes aside the slight guilt he cannot help feeling at the knowledge that his death and slow return caused Spock so much distress, and instead revels in the warmth that comes from having someone care so much about his wellbeing.

When Jim thinks of how much he has gained since boarding that shuttle in Riverside, it leaves him breathless, and knowing that he could have lost it all, yet because of the actions of his crew - his family - and especially because of Spock, he didn’t, is staggering. 

Family is a touchy subject for Jim. It always has been. His mother tried her best when he and Sam were younger, but she was never really completely able to live in the moment, to be there with them. There was always this feeling that she looked at them (At him, because Sam was smart, but he knew how to be average; he knew how to fit in, and little Jimmy Kirk was just _odd_ , and every bit as bright as his father, and as much as he wanted to blame the small town people of Riverside for making him feel so ostracized, he knew it was his fault, just like George’s death was his fault, and every other little thing that went wrong, because nobody said anything but they were all thinking it. He knew they were. He knew they were, and they were right.) and saw someone else. He’ll never know for sure, but Jim has always thought Winona Kirk died when George did. Eventually, he and Sam were big enough that Winona felt less guilty about escaping to the stars, first leaving them with whichever relatives could take them, and then coming home one day while on leave with a man they’d seen all their lives around town but never really known, and they started the next chapter of their lives: Life With Frank. Sam tried to stick it out for Jim's sake, but things were tense between him and Frank from the beginning. In the end, his little brother wasn’t enough of a reason for him to stay, and so he was gone, just like George, just like Winona.

So, Jim thinks the universe will forgive him if he grew up looking at the concept of family with a gimlet eye. By the time he was an adult, he had resigned himself to spending the rest of his life alone, moving from one person’s - or two, because he’s certainly not picky - bed to the next in order to fill that void he preferred to deny feeling. And then he met a girl in a bar, thinking at first that she would be just another in a long line of beautiful people, and his life took a turn for the strange. One by one, he started picking up people - or perhaps they were picking him up; he thinks in a lot of ways the latter is a more accurate description than the former - who actually thought he was worth something, worth sticking around for, and at first he had no idea what he was supposed to do with that, because nobody chose to stay for him. Nobody stood by Jim Kirk.

Meeting the older Spock on Delta Vega and sharing that mind meld was a revelation. Thinking back on it now, Jim attributes Spock’s inability to keep his thoughts and feelings from bleeding through on his all-encompassing grief, because he’s melded more recently, and the experiences could not have been more different. Whatever the reason, the overwhelming sense of trust and unyielding affection he received within that first meld remains at once the best and worst thing Jim has ever felt, because as beautiful as it was while it lasted, the gaping holes it left behind, the enormous feeling of loss, was enough to leave him gasping and nearly brought him to his knees.

Though he feels a little guilty about it, Jim knows that his initial overtures of friendship toward this reality’s Spock were entirely motivated by the way they worked so seamlessly in their efforts to stop Nero and that heady, nearly incomprehensible love the elder Spock had for his Jim Kirk. But then their duties and their experiences commanding the _Enterprise_ allowed them to get to know each other for themselves, time and again throwing their own lives on the line to see the other safe and sound aboard the ship. They did everything they could to protect each other’s lives and the lives of their crew, and they earned their up-til-now flawless casualty record - in large part because of the risks Jim and Spock were willing to take with their own lives, he will admit.

And then he lost his command and thought he would lose his new family - his true family - only to find out that he wasn’t going to lose them at all (Except for Spock, and that hurt, but he wondered at the time if it might not be for the best, because sometimes brothers need their space, and this was different from what happened with Sam, because Spock wasn’t running away; he was being reassigned.). So things were bad, but they could have been worse, and then they got the call from headquarters, and things started to really go to hell. Pike died, and Jim knows that he lost it, lost his grip on the way things should be and what he believes. It was one of the many reasons he basically demanded that Admiral Marcus allow him to reclaim Spock as his XO. There was a tiny, almost silent part of himself that knew he needed Spock to be by his side, reminding him of what was right. By the time Scotty tendered his resignation, Jim almost couldn’t find the energy to be surprised.

He is glad now that he was able to see Scotty again, even if he did have to knock him out and strap him to a chair in the end. Though he did not stay dead, he hates that there was ever a possibility that their argument at the start of the mission would be Scotty’s final memory of him.

And now he is here, in this room with Spock, and he thinks that it was all worth it, because Spock is coming closer and taking his hand in his own. When he says, “Welcome back,” Jim hears, “I missed you,” and “I do not want to be without you,” and “Never put me through anything like that again,” and all the hundreds of other things that Spock will likely never be able to bring himself to say, and he smiles, gripping his friend’s hand a little tighter.

“Thanks, Spock. It’s good to be back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a lot of you have been enjoying reading Spock's reactions to everything, but Kirk had a lot of feelings that he wanted to share, and I'm sure that will happen again, so we took a little break from our regular chapters in order to catch up with him.
> 
> Also: I originally wrote this chapter calling him "Kirk" but fixed it when I realized it was inconsistent from the rest of the fic. If you spot a ramdom "Kirk" please let me know, and I'll fix it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shoutout goes to Mimi, a lovely reviewer who provided some of the inspiration for certain details in this chapter.
> 
> To all of you sweet people who asked (very kindly, which I appreciate so much - you've all made working on this fic an amazing experience so far), and to those of you who refrained from asking, yet still wondered if this is really meant to be a Khan/Kirk fic: Yes, my ducklings. It is. 
> 
> Also, I've gone back and changed all the instances where Spock refers to Uhura by her last name to Nyota, because if he's going to think of Kirk as Jim (and the Spock I hear in my head as I'm writing insists upon it), then he really needs to think of her as Nyota. Kirk will still think of her as Uhura.

Naturally, the reunion between Jim and Spock must eventually transition to a discussion of the ship’s status, the condition of the crew, and the orders from command. Spock releases his friend’s hand and places both of his own behind his back as he dutifully relays all of the pertinent information. Jim listens to Spock’s report avidly, as passionate as he has ever been for news of the _Enterprise_ and his people. When they reach the tension between Spock and the admiralty, Jim tells him, after laughing appreciatively at Spock’s successful obfuscation, “I always knew you could be a sneaky bastard when you wanted to be. But don’t worry about handling the admiralty anymore. Leave them to me.”

“Captain, you are still recovering. In light of your current condition, it is only logical that I continue to carry out my duties as acting captain-”

“Spock,” Jim breaks in firmly, smiling a little to soften it, “I’ll take care of it. It sounds like you’ve done an amazing job until now, but if either of us is going to deal with those crusty old,” at Spock’s eyebrow raise, Jim stops himself, not quite managing to look contrite, _“venerable_ gentlemen, it’s going to be me.”

Unconvinced, Spock examines Jim carefully, pondering the likelihood of gaining Dr. McCoy’s support in limiting their captain’s exposure to stress. More than once in the past, Jim has voiced his displeasure over various encounters with their commanding officers. Were it not for the late Admiral Pike, Spock believes Jim would have preferred to avoid all dealings with the entirety of Starfleet’s governing body. He wonders who they will turn to now that Christopher Pike is gone.

Jim seems to gather the train of his thoughts, because he says, “Look, I don’t even have to go anywhere to do it. Just bring me one of my command shirts and my PADD and I can contact them from this bed.”

He should refuse. His duties as acting captain are not so onerous that he must relinquish this task, and he believes that he has handled his interactions with the admiralty adequately. However, Spock suspects that Jim will decide to do something inadvisable on his own if he does not concede.

Ultimately, he nods and says, “Yes, Captain.”

“Good. Now tell me what you’ve been hedging around for the last thirty minutes.”

“Jim?”

“You and I were both there when that sample of Khan’s blood was taken. There’s no way Bones had enough of it left to bring me back, so what happened?”

Choosing not to address the accusation of obfuscation, whether it is unfounded or not, Spock reports, “Khan was retrieved and returned to the _Enterprise_ , after which he was escorted to the Medical Bay to supply Dr. McCoy with the necessary blood and from there he was taken to his former cell in the brig.”

“No,” Jim starts slowly, “there’s more to it than that, or you would have just told me that from the beginning.” He watches Spock for a moment, and then asks plainly, “Spock, what’s going on?”

Seeing no other options, Spock relents. He details the events that led him to chase Khan down, admitting, with gentle prompting, how he lost control of himself and continued attacking Khan even after he had him subdued, about the way he invaded Khan’s mind. He shares his certainty that, had Nyota not arrived when she did, he would have killed Khan.

“It would not have been out of a desire to deliver justice,” Spock confesses, “and yet I do not believe I would have felt regret after taking his life.”

“You would,” Jim tells him, his tone and expression devoid of censure or judgment. “Maybe not at first, but eventually you would.”

Spock is not so certain. Rather than relay his doubts to Jim, though, he returns to his report of Khan’s surrender.

“Why, though?” Jim interjects. “No offense, Spock, but if he had wanted to, he could have killed or incapacitated you both and gotten away long before the shuttle arrived.”

With a brief nod, Spock agrees, “That was my thought as well, and I can only conclude that he wished to board the ship so that he might learn the truth regarding the fate of his crew.”

In response to this, Jim frowns. “You’re sure about that?”

“Do you have reason to believe I should not be?” Spock asks, and then he stills. “The mind meld. You propose that our connection may have inadvertently led to the sharing of information?” Though he knows that no offense is offered, he cannot fully ignore the unintended implication that his control over his telepathy is somehow inadequate. Such a suggestion would constitute a grave insult among his people, who take no little amount of pride in their mental abilities.

Jim appears calm and his voice is level when he replies, which is an indication that he either is unaware of the potential slight, or that he is simply choosing to ignore it. “It wouldn’t exactly be the first time.”

Casting his mind over the melds the two of them have shared, Spock cannot remember an instance where his control was anything less than absolute. “Perhaps it would be beneficial if you would speak more plainly. To which meld are you referring?”

“The one on Delta Vega, why? Am I missing something?”

“Although a certain degree of emotional transference is expected within a mind meld, the unintentional sharing of information is not. When one loses control of a mind meld, one risks damaging the mind of the other individual involved.”

Rather than becoming disturbed as he absorbs this new information, Jim looks fascinated. It brings to mind long gamma shifts spent in either his or Jim’s quarters discussing unresolved issues pertaining to several of the missions the _Enterprise_ has carried out under their command. Jim’s mind would latch onto the most minute detail and carry it through leaps of logic Spock’s own mind would never travel, inclined as he has always been to follow trains of thought in a straightforward, conventional path.

Eager, now, Jim asks, “But you were actively trying to harm Khan, right? I mean, the point of it was to give you the upper hand so that you could take him out, wasn’t it?”

“Even so,” Spock says, “sharing information with him regarding the state of his crew was not my intent.”

“Well, okay, but Khan said that his mind was different, right? That all of his crew were supposedly better. What if your intentions didn’t __matter?_ _ Is it possible that he could have used the meld for his own purposes?”

The thought of someone else doing such a thing leaves Spock deeply distressed, and he struggles to prevent the horror of it from showing in his expression as he concludes, “Though humans are, so far as studies indicate, psi-null, for an augmented race of humans, it could, potentially, be possible for them to manifest some form of extrasensory abilities.”

Waving his hand, Jim declares, “Well, then there you go. It’s nothing you did or didn’t do,” he continues keenly, proving he has become cognizant of the cause for Spock’s initial reaction to Jim raising the issue of the - admittedly inadvisable - mind meld Spock initiated in his attempt to either capture or eliminate Khan. “This guy has had the best of us from the beginning, always staying at least twenty steps ahead, or if he couldn’t do that, finding some way to render our advantage pretty much useless.”

“If that assertion was meant to be comforting, I must inform you that it did not succeed.”

Jim snorts.

They lapse into silence, and then Spock sees his friend yawn, his eyes noticeably drooping. “Perhaps it would be best to continue this discussion at another time.”

When Jim attempts to reply, another yawn interrupts him, and he blinks heavily. “Perhaps you’re right.”

“Though I imagine Dr. McCoy will want to limit your exposure to the rest of the crew until he deems you sufficiently recovered, there are several individuals who will doubtlessly wish to see you now that you have regained consciousness. In light of this, it may be some time before we are able to discuss more sensitive topics without an audience.”

“It’s fine, Spock,” Jim assures him, his voice reflecting his fatigue. “I’m sure we’ll figure it all out.” His eyes close fully before Spock can respond.

“Lights to ten percent,” he calls softly before turning and exiting the room. He passes Dr. McCoy’s office on his way through the Medical Bay, and notes that there is still light showing through the blinds covering his window, though it has been 2.6 hours since gamma shift began.

As he walks through the halls, Spock considers completing some of the paperwork that has been largely pushed aside in favor of attending to more pressing matters. He realizes, though, that he is too tired, and when he arrives at the quarters he shares with Nyota, he keys in the appropriate code and enters as silently as possible. The lights in their quarters are at five percent, and when he walks around to the sleeping area, Nyota is deeply asleep, with the arm and leg of her left side extended whilst her right arm and leg are curled into her body and the right side of her face is buried in her pillow.

He takes a moment to admire her, feeling inexplicably warmed by the sight of her sleeping in such an unusual position, and then he strips himself methodically of his shoes and uniform. As he slips in beside her beneath the covers, he whispers for the ship’s computer to lower the lights to zero percent. He falls asleep to the feeling of a small hand wrapping around his arm and the sound of a groggy mumble near his ear.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, guys. Longest chapter so far.
> 
> At last, we have a little bit of what everyone has been waiting for. I'm too tired to feel nervous about everyone's reactions. I'll worry about that tomorrow, after I've gotten some sleep.

Spock’s prediction that Jim would have a slew of visitors comes true the next day. Immediately after alpha shift, Sulu, Uhura, and Chekov try to sneak past Bones, who catches the three of them in the act. Snagging Sulu and Chekov by the necks of their uniforms, he informs them in no uncertain terms that they may see their captain one at a time. The two of them submit to the doctor’s manhandling with nearly identical hangdog expressions, causing Jim to grin from where he is sitting up in his biobed and call out, “Sorry, guys. I’ll see you in a little while.”

The door slides shut, and Jim turns his attention to Uhura. She looks a little teary, and Jim asks, “Uhura? You doing all right?”

She nods and then shakes her head. Before he can ask what’s wrong, she strides forward and throws her arms around him, ordering him firmly to, “Never do that again,” and then calling him a long and varied list of unflattering terms in at least eight separate languages, only three of which he can actually understand.

After a minute or two, she pulls back and straightens her uniform, wiping at her eyes and looking cool and confident, slipping back into the emotional armor she wears every day. Jim watches her warily for a few moments and then relaxes. It never gets any easier to see her become so distraught over the stunts he and Spock pull.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he tells her softly.

“But,” she sighs, sounding resigned, “you’re not sorry about saving the ship.”

“The ship?” he asks. “Yeah, I guess I’m pretty happy I managed to save her. But as much as I love my Lady, she’s really not worth much without all of the people onboard.”

Uhura softens but then rolls her eyes, warning him, “Don’t go all soft on me now, Kirk.”

“Never,” he promises, and then says, “Now, tell me all about my crew.”

She smiles and then spends the next fifteen minutes giving Jim all of the details about the crew of the _Enterprise_ that Spock would never think to consider relevant to Jim’s interests. As she starts winding down, Bones ushers an eager Chekov in and tells her to get out, using slightly more tact than he would with any of the other members of the command crew. Even he is reluctant to risk Uhura’s ill will.

As Uhura graciously gives in to Bones, Jim calls out, “See you later,” trying to make it sound more like a statement than a question.

Uhura pauses and looks over her shoulder, nodding before observing, “Someone has to make sure you stay in line, _Captain.”_ She’s gone before Jim can come up with a suitable retort.

Bones looks a little too amused, so when he opens his mouth, Jim raises a hand and says, “Don’t. Get out of here. Don’t you have other patients to practice your bedside manner on?”

“Lucky for you, as of yesterday, you’re my only patient.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure lucky is the word I would use.”

“You’d think I would get a little more appreciation around here,” Bones gripes. “I did, after all, save your life.”

Jim’s brow furrows and he says, “Spock and Uhura saved my life.” And Khan. Khan had saved his life too, for reasons that remain to the seen.

“Yeah, with my idea.”

Chekov looks between the two of them nervously. “Should I come back another time?”

“No, it’s fine, kid. I was just leaving.”

As he prepares to do just that, Jim stops him. “Hey, Bones. Thanks.”

From the way his friend looks at him when he says, “You’re welcome,” Jim has a feeling Bones realizes he is grateful for so much more than bringing him back from the dead, although that in and of itself is something Jim would consider above and beyond the call of duty or friendship.

Bones leaves, distinctly calmer than he was when he came in, and Chekov hurries forward. “It is wery good to see you, Keptan.” He holds out an arm, and it is only then that Jim notices that his chief navigator is holding a book.

“What’s this?” he asks, accepting it reverently. Only those closest to him know about his love of literature. It was an incredibly pleasant surprise when he discovered that Chekov and Sulu shared this passion, though Chekov tends to prefer classic science fiction and Sulu loves adventures like _The Three Musketeers_ and _Treasure Island_. The book Chekov has brought with him this time is an old, worn copy of _Frankenstein_.

“I thought you might be bored,” Chekov explains. “Hikaru has brought a book for you also.”

“What is it? _The Man in the Iron Mask?_ _The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes?”_

Chekov smiles and says, _”20,000 Leagues Under the Sea._ I think it is meant to be a joke.”

“He’s never going to forgive me for asking him to park the _Enterprise_ under water in the middle of Nibiru’s night, is he?” Jim asks, his mouth twisting wryly.

“Forgiwe, Keptan?” Chekov responds cheerfully. “That is, I think, already done. But he will newer forget.”

Jim sighs and glances down at the book in his hands before he looks up at Chekov somberly. “Speaking of things I need forgiveness for: I am sorry for asking you to take over Engineering. I wasn’t thinking clearly at the time, and that was unfair to you. I think you’re so amazing at everything you do that I forget sometimes even you have your limits.”

Chekov blushes from the tips of his ears to the top of his black undershirt, and he ducks his head. “You do not need to apologize. I was happy to do it. Though,” he says, his voice rueful, “I do not think I did a wery good job.”

“Well then,” Jim starts gently, “we’ll just have to agree to disagree - on both counts.” He watches the way Chekov smiles weakly, and then he presses _Frankenstein_ back into his navigator’s hands and proposes, “I think we probably have a little while longer before Bones comes in to throw you out. Why don’t you get me started?”

He complies happily, and they manage to get through the first ten pages before Bones comes to retrieve him.

The visit with Sulu is much less emotional than the ones with Uhura and Chekov. He enters and walks to Jim’s side with the promised novel held in his left hand so that he can clasp Jim’s right hand with his own and squeeze it once before letting go. “Glad to have you back with us, Kirk.”

Jim grins. “You sure? I heard from Bones you looked pretty comfortable in my chair before things were done.”

Sulu grins back, giving a little laugh before he says, “Yeah, well, Spock’s the one sitting in it now, and he’s doing a good job of it - of course he is; he’s Spock - but I think we’re all ready for you to take it back when you can.”

Before Jim can tell him he’ll have to get approval from Bones first - which he has a feeling will take some time, considering the fact that he was dead there for a while - the man in question enters the room, looking thunderous. He strides up to the biobed, prompting Sulu to jump out of the way, and thrusts a familiar pair of gold and black shirts under Jim’s nose. “When I said you could talk to Command, that was only because I thought they would have the decency to wait a few days after you woke up to try and contact you. Obviously that was too much to expect, because the communications officer on duty has now received five separate hails ‘requesting’ your response at your earliest convenience.” 

Grasping the items in his hands, Jim blinks down at them numbly. He supposes it would not do any good to tell Bones he has been expecting something like this since he woke up last night. In lieu of that, he says, “All right, then. Sulu, thanks for the book - I’ll catch up more with you later. Bones, please let Lieutenant Zhou know that I’m sorry Command has been haranguing her, and I’ll get back to them in a minute.”

When he is completely alone, Jim shifts around so that he can remove the gown he has been wearing for longer than he truly wants to contemplate, and then he slips into his black undershirt, frowning at how loosely it fits now. Sighing, he pulls on his command gold and does what he can to straighten his hair. He wonders what Scotty would say if he could see it now.

Eventually, he acknowledges the fact that he is stalling, and he takes a slow, deep breath before ordering the view screen against the far wall to turn on.

Five minutes later, he is ready to throw both of his pillows at the screen, since strangling a superior officer is not an option, and they are too far away for him to do that regardless. He does his best to keep most of his frustration out of his voice and his expression, though he knows Admiral Komack can still tell that he is getting to him. Jim sometimes thinks the man was put on Earth purely to test him, and then he remembers how small and insignificant he is in the scheme of things and gets over it.

“Look, sir, I appreciate that the media is looking for answers, but I cannot, in good conscience, put the safety of my crew at risk purely for the sake of satisfying their curiosity. We are working on repairing the ship enough to attempt docking, but it will take a few days before we get to that point.” Granted, they could have docked much sooner if Scotty had assigned more men to the task of repairing certain areas of the ship. He’ll have to thank his Engineering chief later, when he comes with the documentation necessary to revoke his resignation - which Jim never actually signed off on in the first place. “Nothing has changed since the last time you spoke with my First Officer, sir. We need more time.”

“Well, see to it that you contact us as soon that changes, Kirk. And don’t try any of your usual stunts. You’re on shaky enough ground as it is, and this time you don’t have anyone left to save you.”

For a moment, all Jim can do is sit motionlessly, grief and fury coiling in his gut like a living, writing thing. How _dare he?_ For a few terrifying, breathtaking seconds, he contemplates murder. Then he forces a grim smile and grits out, “Understood, sir.”

“Good, Kirk. Komack out.” The screen goes black, matching Jim’s mood, and several dark seconds later, he begins the slow process of levering himself out of bed. It doesn’t matter what Bones thinks. If he has to look at these four, passionless white walls for another minute, he will start dismantling and otherwise destroying everything within them. He has to get out.

As soon as his feet hit the floor and he finishes correcting his balance, still feeling rather shaky and uncertain on his legs, he takes off his gold shirt. He roots around in the cabinets against one wall of the room, followed by the two underneath the biobed, and eventually comes up with a black pair of pants that are about right in the leg and only swamp his diminished waistline a little. He frowns down at his bare feet, but ultimately shrugs; at least they’ll be quieter than boots would be, though he’s a little leery of the cold floor.

He slips out of the room and carefully makes his way through Sickbay, combining all of his years spent avoiding Frank and later on learning stealth in his survival classes at the Academy in order to successfully evade the medical staff currently on duty. Once he is out in the hallway beyond his best friend’s domain, Jim takes a moment to lean against the wall and just breathe, struggling not to become disgusted with his slow progress. He died. He figures that kind of thing takes a while to get over.

Eventually, he recovers enough to head for the entrance to the nearest Jefferies tube, wishing he could take the turbolift without risking running into a member of his crew and it getting out to Spock or Bones. He will simply have to suck it up. He climbs down slowly.

More than once, he considers giving up, and then that stubbornness that has plagued him his entire life reasserts itself. He pushes past the trembling of his limbs and the sweat pouring down his face. One positive side-effect of the physical exertion is the cooling of his ire over his most recent in a long line of scintillating encounters with Admiral Komack. Jim doesn’t generally make a habit of hating people, but he can honestly say he despises that man, and after listening to him as he insisted that the _Enterprise_ return to spacedock so that the command crew might be debriefed in person and then subjected to a press conference, he feels more justified than ever.

When he reads the number for the correct floor, he almost sobs in relief. He is never telling Bones about this moment.

He exits the Jefferies tube after checking that the coast outside of the shaft is empty, and then he sets off for his destination. Have the halls grown longer? It definitely feels that way as he goes forward. The halls wind on and on, and his tred becomes ever slower. He almost convinces himself that he is on the wrong floor after all, though he knows his Lady as well as he knows himself, and then he is there.

\---

When he enters the brig, he meets the eyes of one of two understandably startled security officers. They both start to rush toward him, and he holds up his hands to both placate them and ward them off. Almost at once, they halt their progress, jerking to a stop before they exchange a glance.

Before they can start asking questions, Jim says, “Relax, guys. I’m just here to talk to our guest.”

For some reason, this makes them even more uneasy, and one of them - Stevens, Jim thinks - steps forward again. “Captain,” he starts uncertainly, “are you sure you should be down here?” He looks back at his companion and then continues, “Only, we heard from some of the people in Medical that it would be a while before you were back on your feet, sir.”

Were he the captain of any other crew, he would most likely be inclined to reprimand his people for openly engaging in gossip, but he is ever mindful of the unique nature of the majority of those serving under his command. Approximately ninety percent of those aboard the _U.S.S. Enterprise_ were part of the original crew during the Narada incident, which was made up of part of the year’s graduating class from Starfleet Academy and their instructors, meaning they are the youngest crew in the entire fleet, brought together by the tragedy they witnessed firsthand. Knowing this, Jim allows them a good deal of leeway, and they show their appreciation in their unwavering loyalty and their impeccable performance.

So instead of issuing some form of punishment, Jim makes a face and then shrugs. “I don’t respond well to confinement.” He claps his hands together then, saying, “Well, as lovely as this is, I actually do want to have a word with Khan, so if you two could maybe take a walk or wait outside, I would appreciate it.”

“There’s a bit of a problem with that, sir,” the second security officer, who Jim now recognizes as David Kilkarney, from his second year hand to hand class at the Academy.

“Okay. What would that be?”

Hesitantly, they lead him over to the cell where Khan is situated, and Jim stares. Covering his mouth, there is a piece of metal. The metal extends to wrap around the bottom half of his face, continuing, so far as he can see, until both sides meet at the back of Khan’s head.

After a lifetime has passed, Jim’s eyes drift upward to find an icy blue pair gazing back at him, studying his reaction with interest. Swallowing dryly, Jim orders, “Take it off.”

“But sir -”

“You aren’t going to get into any trouble for following my orders, all right? Take it off.”

Kilkarney is the one who moves to do as Jim says, lowering the barrier and stepping forward to unlock the metal gag. Khan stands still, allowing it, and does nothing when the security officer steps back out of the brig and secures it once more.

Jim thanks him and then asks again for privacy. Stevens assures him, “We’ll be right outside if you need anything, Captain,” and then he and Kilkarney leave.

In the ensuing silence, Jim turns back to Khan, who is already watching him avidly. He blinks, startled when Khan finally opens his mouth. “Sit down before you fall down, Kirk.”

As much as he wants to refuse on principle, the journey down here has sapped him of even the dregs of his energy, and he sinks resentfully down to the floor. He expects to spend the next however long craning his neck, so he is incredibly surprised when Khan gracefully lowers himself down as well.

“Now. What brings you down to see me, Captain, especially without your First Officer?”

Jim is quiet for a moment, giving himself one last chance to change his mind.

He doesn’t take it.

“There’s something wrong with me,” he starts. “Something new. I was talking to one of the admirals and I almost lost it. I can’t stand the man on a good day, but just now, I genuinely wanted to end him.” He stares down at his hands as he concludes, “That’s not normal. That’s not - me.”

“I think you’ll find, in time, that it is,” Khan replies.

Dragging his head up, Jim asks, “So I was right? It’s because of the blood?”

Rather than answer his question directly, Khan asks, “Are you familiar with the twentieth century story _Jurassic Park?_ ” At Jim’s nod, he carries on. “If you will recall, the geneticists spliced the dinosaur DNA with the DNA of frogs, and because of that, the new generation of dinosaurs was able to reproduce, even though all of the creatures were genetically engineered to be female.”

“But for that to apply here, there would have to be some sort of flaw in my DNA, and I may have a lot of unusual allergies, but aside from that -” Jim stops, his mind going back to those horrible minutes leading up to his death. “The radiation.”

Khan inclines his head, and then waits, giving Jim the time he needs to gather his thoughts. So there it is. There is no denying the truth of the matter anymore. The cause of his death and the method of his revival have changed him on a fundamental level. He wonders what he would see now if he were to place a sample of his own blood under a microscope.

Finally, he asks, “How do you live like this? How do you deal with all of this _rage?_ I know all about anger, all right? I was the quintessential delinquent with a chip on his shoulder until a man in a bar basically told me I could be better, but I have _never_ felt like this.”

“It is easier for me, having never known anything different.” Khan pauses and tilts his head before continuing, “Though as you have seen, there are times when controlling the more savage impulses becomes more difficult.”

Shoulders slumping, Jim asks, “So you can’t help me?”

“Oh, Captain, I never said _that.”_

In spite of the fact that their mutual history demands that he disregard every offer of assistance made by the man across from him, and reminds him that he still remains ignorant of his true motives, for the first time since Jim woke up and realized that something was off, he feels hope.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, my ducklings. The updates may slow down a bit, because this week is shaping up to be quite a bit busier than I originally anticipated. Nevertheless, this is the fic that I am focusing on right now, so it should be done within the next two weeks.
> 
> On a side note, I noticed that someone had raised the concern that the transfusion given to Kirk contained more than just Khan's blood, and I'd just like to take a moment to reassure everyone that that is not the case. If anyone notices instances in the text where it looks that way, please feel free to drop me a line and I'll take care of it.

As much as Khan’s roundabout offer of assistance sooths the tightly coiled panic Jim has been fighting to tamp down on, the temptation to ask a million questions is strong. Jim has known from a young age that with knowledge comes power, and he desperately wants something to make him feel less like the events of the past few weeks have stripped him of all control over his life. He wants to know what Khan will do in order to help him; he wants to know why Khan is willing to help him; he wants to know why Khan saved his life when he had already proven he had no qualms whatsoever taking the lives of innocent men and women to achieve his goals; he wants some sign that he is not completely out of his mind for wanting to trust Khan with this, outside of the fact that the man could have found a way off of the _Enterprise_ and out of the quadrant days ago of he wished and yet he continues to stay.

There are so many things he wants to know, but he holds back. Demanding answers from Khan before he is willing to share them will get him nowhere, and Jim has had enough of banging his head against the proverbial wall to last him an entire year purely from the conversation he had with Komack.

In the end, all he asks is, “When do we start?”

Khan gives him a critical look. “Not right now. As you sit here, your eyes are beginning to stay shut longer with every blink. For now, I suggest you have one of your men accompany you back to the Medical Bay to rest and recover from your little jaunt around the ship.”

Too tired to bristle, Jim sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. At the very least, the trembling in his limbs has stopped in the time since he sat down. The downside of allowing his body to recover from being pushed so hard before it is ready is that his skin feels tacky from dried sweat, and all of his muscles feel like jelly. The thought of trying to return to Sickbay the way he came is too daunting by far, and he is forced to concede that Khan’s suggestion of an escort is eminently logical. Frowning, he goes back over that thought in his head and realizes that it makes Khan sound like Spock. He wonders if part of the reason the two of them despise each other so much is that they are actually far more alike than they are different. If the two of them ever chose to work together, they would be unstoppable.

And that, right there, is irrefutable proof that Jim needs sleep. Comparing Spock to Khan? He’s clearly starting to lose his grip on the waking world.

He hauls himself up from the floor and sees Khan do the same. He gives a perfunctory nod and says, “I’ll see you some time tomorrow if Bones doesn’t lock me up and throw away the key.”

“Bones?” Khan asks, and then he shakes his head and answers himself. “Ah. Your ship’s doctor. Yes, I would imagine he will not take kindly to your wandering about.” He examines Jim before noting, “He cares about you. More than his position as your personal physician dictates.”

Confused, Jim’s brow furrows and he tries to determine where Khan is going with this. “Well, yeah. We’ve been friends since the Academy. For a while there, Bones was my only friend.”

“Mmm,” is all that Khan will say on the matter, though something like satisfaction flashes in his eyes before he can hide it. When Jim opens his mouth to call him on it, Khan bids him a firm, “Good night, Kirk.”

Straightening his shirt, Jim decides to let it go, simply saying, “Right,” and then beginning the trek out of the brig.

Stevens and Kilkarney are waiting for him just outside the door, and they straighten when he steps out. “Is everything all right, Captain?” Kilkarney asks, sounding more concerned about Jim himself, rather than anything else, and like that, it hits Jim all over again exactly why he loves his crew so much. Though he is not as close to everyone under his command as he wishes to be, they are still compassionate and dedicated to every one of their shipmates, down to the last yeoman.

He smiles and assures both of his security officers that all is as it should be. “If one of you could join me on my way back to Sickbay, though, I would really appreciate it.”

Both men look ready to volunteer for the task, but then Stevens hesitates and asks, “But, sir, what about the prisoner?”

“Don’t worry about Khan, Stevens. I have a feeling he’s not going anywhere.” When Stevens continues to look uncertain, Jim claps a hand on his shoulder and squeezes gently. “Trust me on this. It’ll be fine.”

After a beat, Stevens nods, and says, “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” Jim declares as brightly as he can when all he really wants to do is find a little nook somewhere to curl up and go to sleep. He has something much better than a nook waiting for him if he can muster enough energy to get to it. To expedite this, he tells Stevens, “Then Kilkarney and I will be on our way,” and drops his hand from the man’s shoulder so that he can start walking down the hall. He turns to look over his shoulder after Kilkarney has fallen into step with him and says, “Oh, and Stevens? We won’t be needing that gag again.”

“Understood, Captain.”

The journey back to Sickbay passes for Jim in a blur. Later on, he vaguely recalls walking with David Kilkarney to the nearest turbolift and leaning against the back wall after watching the security officer press the button for the right level, and that he blinked and the ride was over. He thinks they must have passed a few ensigns and one lieutenant from Engineering as they walked through the halls toward their final destination, and then after that, all he remembers is stumbling through the door to his private room in Sickbay and collapsing into his biobed.

It’s possible he promises his pillow that he will never leave it again, but that could also have been part of the dream he fell into as soon as he closed his eyes.

When he finally resurfaces from his slumber, he opens his eyes only to meet his irate First Officer’s gaze. He wonders if it would be too cowardly for him to fall right back to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, my ducklings. I don't even know what's going on with my work schedule right now. So I guess, in the future, consider my updating schedule open to revision at pretty much any time. I'm done trying to predict how everything is going to play out. We'll just take each day as it comes, yeah? Yeah. Okay. Good.

In the day following Jim’s return to consciousness, there is little change in Spock’s routine. The true results of the captain’s recovery can be seen in the shift of the crew’s morale. Were he a more fanciful individual, Spock might be inclined to say that the air throughout the ship feels lighter. Instead, he notes with satisfaction the 7.6 percent increase in productivity and the signs of a significant reduction in the amount of stress the majority of the crew is under.

The alpha shift which follows is the most relaxed since the _Enterprise’s_ last day spent in the planet Nibiru’s orbit, although the general consensus is that things will not be as they should until such a time that Jim may reclaim his chair on the bridge.

Though Spock would prefer to keep news of Jim’s revival from the admiralty until he is further along in his recovery, he believes it is necessary for the comportment of the crew to appear above reproach after delaying their arrival at spacedock. He sends a missive to Admiral Barnett alerting him of Jim’s current status. Although Barnett has never shown an active interest in Jim the way that Christopher Pike did, he is, at the very least, more sympathetic than many of the other admirals, and Spock considers the man an ally in the effort to shield Jim from the collective ill will of Starfleet Command.

It is the unfortunate truth that Starfleet awarded Jim Kirk the title of captain of the Federation’s flagship without taking into account the man himself. In the months that followed, the admirals were obliged to reassess the wisdom of their decision only to discover that they could not reverse it; they may consider Jim an embarrassment to the fleet, but the public had fallen in love with their hero, and there would have been an outcry if the admiralty had done anything to him without just cause. Spock cannot find it within himself to regret the actions he and Jim took on Nibiru, especially now that he understands what led Jim to risk everything in order to save his life, yet he also cannot deny that flouting the Prime Directive provided the proof those at Starfleet headquarters so dearly needed. He is uncertain what might have befallen his friend had Pike not spoken in his defense, but he knows that it would have devastated Jim far more than his demotion.

Spock thinks back on their encounter prior to Khan’s attack and closes his eyes at his own ignorance. He should have realized that Jim was seeking reassurance and reacted accordingly, and he failed because of his own stubborn insistence that he is not ruled by his own sentimentality. He was a fool. It is because of this that he desires so strongly to see to his friend’s successful recovery and to safeguard his career now and in the future.

Four hours after Spock’s message is sent, he receives a reply signifying it arrived and requesting further information regarding Jim’s condition. Barnett goes on to warn him that the rest of the admiralty is likely to grow steadily more impatient now that Jim is awake, and Spock struggles to suppress what his friend would likely call a feeling of foreboding. The admiralty’s attitude toward Jim is not unknown to him, and there is therefore no logical reason for him to respond to this news so strongly.

As he writes out a message thanking Barnett for his assistance, Spock hears Ensign Chekov and Lieutenant Sulu discussing their plans to visit the captain at the end of their shift. Nyota must hear this as well, because she asks to accompany them. “I’d been planning on paying him a visit anyway.”

Chekov and Sulu exchange a glance and then Sulu smiles at Nyota, agreeing. “As long as you don’t mind stopping by our quarters before we head down there, that sounds fine by me.”

Nyota indicates her acceptance and then the three of them resume their tasks.

The rest of alpha shift passes without anything worthy of note occurring, and Spock passes the conn on to Lieutenant Commander Mitchell, who would have taken his place as First Officer after Jim was demoted had Christopher Pike not stepped in and appointed Jim to the position. Spock wishes he could lay the blame for his discomfort around Mitchell on this alone, but he has found the man unsettling since his transfer to the _Enterprise_ from the _U.S.S. Republic_ 7.9 months previous.

He pushes his feelings on the matter of the Lieutenant Commander aside as he has for the past 7.9 months and exits the bridge. He journeys down to Engineering to offer his assistance to Commander Scott once more, and the Chief Engineer gratefully sends him off to aide the engineers currently working to restore transporter capability to the ship. On his way down to the transporter room, he receives a report from Ensign Stevens down in the brig. Alpha shift passed without incident from Khan according to the security officer, and Spock thanks him before signing off and putting his communicator in the right pocket of his regulation pants.

He works through all of beta shift and is preparing to partake in a meal in the commissary when he receives the next report on Khan. His course changes immediately upon hearing that Stevens and Kilkarney apparently received a visit from Jim during their shift, and that they allowed him to persuade them to leave him alone with Khan. As he strides toward the nearest turbolift, he comms Dr. McCoy. Before the doctor can speak, Spock demands, “Were you at any point aware that the captain had taken leave of your facilities, Doctor?”

_”Well you can bet I was when he came back. My nurses told me he came in with one of the security officers looking dead on his feet - which were bare, by the way. What the idiot was thinking wandering about a damaged ship with no shoes, I have no idea.”_

“Please desist in your histrionics, Dr. McCoy,” Spock requests as he enters the turbolift, “as they are neither necessary nor helpful. Was the captain visibly unharmed?”

_”Yeah, he was fine, other than being completely exhausted. I came down as soon as I heard and I’ve been checking on him every thirty minutes. He’s just sleeping.”_

Spock holds back a sigh of relief and informs the doctor that he will join him in the Medical Bay presently.

 _”Oh, good._ You _can be the one to chew him out. Sometimes he actually listens to you.”_

The doctor ends their connection before Spock can come up with a response that is something other than, “Less than you might think,” which is, in all likelihood, a boon. He arrives at the correct floor and departs from the turbolift, striding towards the Medical Bay swiftly.

Dr. McCoy meets him at the door and orders him not to wake Jim, “even though the infant deserves it. Just let him wake up on his own, because Jim may not know what he needs, but his body does.”

“Understood,” Spock says before slowing his stride and quieting his footsteps as he approaches the private room where Jim is meant to convalesce. He enters silently and allows the door to slip closed behind him with a soft hiss. Placing his hands behind his back, he walks up to the side of the biobed and prepares to wait.

Fifty-four minutes later, he watches Jim’s eyes slide open, and he sees the moment his captain registers his presence. Jim swallows and tries to smile, but Spock remains unmoved and Jim’s expression falters. Spock wishes that he was unable to believe that Jim would have the temerity to abscond from the Medical Bay to traverse almost the entire breadth of the ship and then proceed to hold a discussion with the man responsible for his death without any sort of protection, but Spock is intimately familiar with Jim Kirk’s inclination to disregard his own health and security. Without a psychology degree, Spock can only speculate as to the reason for this behavior, but he is all too aware of the results.

Jim sits up gradually, and when he is sufficiently pleased with his position, he greets Spock, his voice sounding wary.

Closing his eyes, Spock imagines he looks, for once, much as his mother had, when he was younger and she felt the need to “pray for patience,” as she called it whenever he or his father were especially trying. “Captain. Jim. For what reason could you possibly depart from this room in your current state unaccompanied?” He opens his eyes and levels Jim with the same look of disappointment he remembers his mother wearing only three times in his childhood, and in this moment, the constant ache he feels over her loss sharpens. What would she have said about Jim’s antics? Surely she would have known what to do.

He watches Jim look away uncomfortably before he runs a hand over his wildly unkempt hair. “I just needed to get out of here for a little while, okay? I’m sorry if I worried you.”

“Leaving in order to alleviate your restlessness I can understand. What I truly cannot fathom is why you felt it necessary to speak with Khan when you know that he is fully capable of escaping from his cell at any time, should he so choose.” When Jim merely continues to look uncomfortable and vaguely guilty, Spock becomes exasperated, demanding plainly, “Jim, what were you thinking?”

Sighing miserably, Jim says at last, “Look, I’m just going through something, and I think he might be able to help me figure out a way to deal with it.”

Stunned, Spock cannot speak for a 8.4 seconds before he recovers and asks, “You would seek help from the man who murdered innocent men and women, some of which, I might add, were members of our crew, when there are a number of people on this ship, myself and Dr. McCoy included, who would do whatever is within our power to assist you?”

“Look,” Jim sighs again, holding up a hand, “I know how it sounds, and I’m sorry, but I need him. Something happened to me when Bones injected me with Khan’s blood. You saw what the radiation was doing to me on the surface: imagine what it was doing on a more basic level. Spock, I don’t think I’m completely human anymore.” He allows that confession to hang in the air between them like a tangible thing for a period of time that Spock is simply too astonished to calculate. Finally, Jim begins to speak once more. “He’s the only person I know of who has any idea what I’m dealing with, and I need you to trust me on this, both as your captain and as your friend. Please.”

Perhaps he could have resisted were it not for Jim’s appeal to their bond of friendship, but today is apparently a day for reminiscing, because his mind is drawn still to the moment between them in Engineering, preceding Jim’s death, and he finds that he can do nothing other than concede, uttering, “As you wish,” even as he privately resolves to keep an even more watchful eye on Khan. That man will not be allowed to bring Jim to harm again.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys ever want to pose a question regarding this fic, but don't feel comfortable voicing it in the comments, you can drop me a line at my inbox on Tumblr. http://pixiethisisnotmybeautifulhouse.tumblr.com/
> 
> Note: This is not an invitation for anons to leave hate in my ask. If you message me, please use your username.

The hypo that Bones administers to Jim the morning following his little escapade is clearly his best friend’s own form of punishment, regardless of his claims to the contrary. Jim would feel more inclined to believe him if he hadn’t jabbed the hypo into his neck with the same sort of viciousness he used to reserve for the mornings after Jim had been on a particularly spectacular bender in their days at the Academy.

“Don’t be such a baby,” Bones snaps when he hears Jim object - loudly, and with what Jim considers warranted vehemence - to his tender mercies. “I’ve watched you hurt yourself worse more times than I’d ever care to count. Besides, it’s good for you. B vitamins for energy and vitamins C and D for your immune system. I don’t care what you and that pointy-eared bastard think: if there’s one person out there who could stump even that augmented immunity, it would be you, and I’m not taking any chances.”

“Bones, don’t you think you’re being a little bit paranoid?” Jim asks, more than a little exasperated.

He is shocked when his best friend’s expression turns dark and he shouts, “No, Jim, I don’t! Maybe you don’t understand this, but you died not too long ago, and I wasn’t even there to say so much as a goodbye when it happened! Do you know how many times I’ve feared that exact thing? One of my worst nightmares was realized two weeks ago, and it was only by chance and circumstance that I was able to reverse it - and now I find out that it had consequences that none of us even imagined?”

Jim, for once in his life, does the wise thing and keeps his mouth shut.

“So, here’s what’s going to happen: You are going to let me treat you however I see fit, and you are going to listen to me and your First Officer when we tell you that you’re taking unnecessary risks, and you are not going to give us any grief about it. And you know why? Because for some reason, we both think you’re a pretty amazing guy, and we care about you enough that we want to take care of you - especially when you refuse to take care of yourself.” He clears his throat and then says, “Now, if I _ever_ have to have a conversation like this with you again, I will conveniently ‘forget’ the results of your latest physical and drag you down here to do it all over again. You understand?”

Thoroughly chastised, and feeling lower than dirt, Jim ducks his head and says, “Yeah, Bones. I understand.”

He can feel the weight of his best friend’s scrutiny, and he struggles not to fidget like a recalcitrant little boy. Bones mutters something disparaging that sounds suspiciously like, “I’ll believe it when I see it,” under his breath, but then he switches focus. “Now, Spock and I talked about your little arrangement with Khan, and we decided that one of us is going to be there with you at all times.”

“Oh, really?” Jim replies dryly. He shuts up at the sharp look he receives for his efforts. Besides, there could be worse things.

“As I was _saying_ , one of us will be with you at all times, and if we think there’s something fishy going on or that you’re overdoing it, we’ll put a stop to it and figure out another way to handle this.”

Rubbing a hand over his forehead, Jim heaves a put upon sigh. “Is that everything? Are you done?”

Bones rolls his eyes. “Yes, Jim. I am done.”

“Great.” He looks down at his incredibly stylish gown and then back up at Bones. “Now, can I get dressed?”

A pair of grey Starfleet regulation workout pants which had previously been folded neatly upon the top of the cabinets in his little private room hits Jim in the face. “Knock yourself out.”

In the end, Jim is left clutching the workout pants in his hands and staring helplessly after Bones. “Congratulations, Kirk. Once again, you’ve managed to disappoint one of the people who cares about you most.”

This day is shaping up to be spectacular. Jim can already feel it.

\---

If he had hoped things would be better between him and Spock than they were with Bones once he joined them outside of Sickbay at the start of beta shift, Jim is rapidly disabused of this notion. His First Officer is acting exactly as the position dictates: polite and respectful to a fault, with a notable absence of his usual warmth and dry humor.

The three of them make the journey down to the brig in a silence brimming with cold anger and hurt feelings, and the only thing that makes it bearable is the underlying current of concern.

Once they arrive at the brig, Ensign Roo and Lieutenant Matthews greet their commanding officers and then lead them to Khan’s cell in silence, responding to the tension between them. Jim feels the absence of the banter he usually has with Matthews keenly. Khan, too, picks up on the fraying of everyone’s edges, his sharp eyes missing nothing; it is a fact Jim registers without a shred of surprise.

“I see Dr. McCoy did not, in fact, imprison you for your own good.”

“Only because he’d find a way to break out,” Bones grumbles. “You’d better believe I would’ve done it if I thought for a second it would stick.”

After blatantly appraising him, Khan inclines his head towards Bones. Then he shifts all of his considerable attention to rest upon Spock. “And what about you, Mister Spock?” he inquires lowly, the thin veneer of civility in the address clearly intended to mock. “Are you not going to bind my tongue again and do whatever is in your power to keep me from your captain?”

“That remains to be seen,” Spock states, and if Jim thought his friend was acting cold towards him on the way here, that is nothing compared to the frigidness of his behavior now.

Inhaling slowly, Jim decides to jump in before things can degenerate any further. “Right,” he starts brightly, feeling the combined weight of the other three men’s focus falling on him with that one word and feigning indifference to it from years of practice and sheer force of will, “well, I can’t be the only one who’s curious about whatever it is we’re going to be doing today. So, what’s the plan?"

“Do you have a workout room or training room that goes largely unused by your crew?”

Trying to tamp down on the way his brain automatically begins speculating on the purpose behind such a request, Jim nods and says, “I think we might have what you’re looking for. Want to tell me why you need it?”

“Not just yet,” Khan breathes, but it isn’t an outright refusal, so Jim is willing to let it go for now.

Spock and Bones are less inclined to make such an allowance, and they both take the chance to express the reasons for their displeasure. “Giving my permission for Jim to come down here today was one thing, but I can’t just allow him to go traipsing all over the _Enterprise_ when he’s barely been awake for two days and has pushed himself too hard once already,” Bones declares, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling almost as impressively as he had the day he and Jim first met.

“Against my better judgment, I have said nothing against the captain coming down here since he apprised me of the reason behind his intention to return. However, I cannot and will not condone allowing you access to the rest of the ship and our crew.”

“How fortunate, then, that the decision is not yours to make,” Khan observes.

As much as Jim hates the awkward position Khan has just put him in, he has to admire the guts that it takes to goad Spock the way this man does, even knowing what could happen should he ever push just a hair too far. After all, Jim has been there himself, and it is an experience he never wishes to replicate, for more reasons than his own continued well being.

“If we’re all done posturing and trying to prove who’s the strongest alpha male in the room,” Jim says wryly, “maybe we could get back to the real subject at hand. How exactly are we going to prevent me from exploding on some poor, unsuspecting Ensign like the ticking time bomb I am?” When it looks as though Khan is going to politely decline to elaborate once more, Jim continues, “You’re gonna have to be a little more forthcoming before I actually agree to let you out of that cell.”

“I am going to make you angry, Captain Kirk,” Khan explains evenly, “and you are going to try not to kill me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How the discussion in the brig might have started, but didn't, because I don't actually want this scene to be crack: 
> 
> “I see Dr. McCoy did not, in fact, imprison you for your own good. A turn of events for which we should both be grateful, given that no matter how thick your hair is, it is woefully insufficient to serve as a rope.”
> 
> Bones chokes, most likely warring between laughing himself sick over Khan comparing Jim to Rapunzel and feeling outraged over his own comparison to the evil witch who imprisons her. Abruptly, Jim realizes they’re _both_ forgetting someone in this scenario, and he holds up a hand, hoping he’s wrong. “Wait a minute, who is supposed to be the prince?”
> 
> Khan arches an eyebrow. “Why Kirk, I should think that would be obvious.”
> 
> Jim stares at him and then shakes his head, sorry he ever asked. “You gotta be kidding me.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before everyone grabs their knives and pitchforks, let me tell you that there is a longer chapter coming tomorrow, and it's almost done. I just have to finish the last few paragraphs and then edit it.

“Wait a minute, that’s -” Jim has to stop as a bark of laughter erupts from his incredulous mouth. _”That’s_ your big plan?” He shakes his head, shoving down his disappointment. “Spock could do that.”

“Mmm, no he couldn’t, because no matter how angry you become, you could never bring yourself to harm one you consider family, and even if that were not the case, there is still the matter of your altered physiology. At this time, we have far too little knowledge of the true extent of the changes my blood caused in you. Perhaps your strength has grown, perhaps it has not, but tell me, Kirk, would you truly wish to make the discovery whilst attacking one of the people you hold most dear?”

It is hard for Jim to decide which emotion he feels more strongly: impressed or disturbed, in light of how thoroughly Khan has managed to understand his character from the handful of encounters they have had so far. He is used to being misunderstood - prefers it, even, because he can never have too many advantages when things go wrong and he has to use even the dregs of his talents and tricks to ensure that he and everyone he loves will make it through - and he has no idea how to react to this blatant admission to the contrary. What about him warrants such close scrutiny, such careful analysis? Should he be worried? He carefully avoids glancing at Spock and Bones, knowing how each of them will probably want him to feel.

Sometimes he has to disregard everything else and simply trust in his gut, and as much as conventional wisdom dictates that he should run far, far away from Khan and everything he represents, Jim cannot fight the feeling that in doing so, he would be making a huge mistake.

So he does what Jim Kirk does best: he flings himself off a ledge and prays that he will not have too far to fall.

He moves away from where his closest friends stand beside him like brackets and over to the control panel for Khan’s cell, ignoring the twin objections which inevitably follow. When the barrier separating him from Khan is gone, he walks up to him and stares into the man’s eyes, trying to convey exactly how serious he is as he says lowly, “I don’t think I have to tell you what I will do to you if you so much as _think_ about hurting a member of my crew.”

Khan merely smiles, something like appreciation escaping the tightly maintained curtain hiding his true thoughts and feelings from the rest of the world; he puts on a good show, but that is all it is. Most of the time, people only see what Khan wants them to see, but several times now, Jim has been able to provoke him, through no conscious effort, into revealing something genuine. It baffles him even as it strengthens his certainty that he is making the right decision.

Holding his hand out in invitation, Khan replies, “I would expect nothing less than exactly what I would do to you if you ever harmed a member of mine.”

Slowly, Jim allows his eyes to fall to the hand between them. He knows from personal experience how strong that hand is, how easily it can help or harm, but he has never had a reason to know how it feels during something as inane and everyday as a handshake. He’s startled to realize that he really wants to. With the voices of Spock and Bones providing a dissonant and increasingly loud background noise, he raises his own.

It’s funny how much clasping Khan’s hand with his feels like finding a safe landing.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. My stomach is in knots. I've edited this chapter within an inch of its life, and I'm still not entirely sure how I feel about it.

The four of them leave the brig in tense silence, Bones and Spock having finally given up on trying to convince Jim of all the ways that going along with Khan’s plan is a bad idea. They stride down the halls toward the turbolift and then enter, Khan and Jim quickly, Bones and Spock with obvious trepidation, making no effort to conceal how little they wish to share such a compact space with the man whose actions led to their friend’s death - regardless of the fact that his actions also ultimately led to Jim’s revival.

Eventually, though, they are all inside, and the ride to the deck that Jim has in mind is thankfully a short one. When the lift opens, Jim takes the lead, heading for a gym that the majority of the crew opts not to utilize, most likely because of the distance between it and the officers’ quarters. There are others which are much more conveniently located, and he typically tries to visit each of them, which gives him the opportunity to interact with his crew in an informal environment, but every once in awhile, he needs to be by himself, and when that happens, this is the gym he likes to use.

Before he can walk into the gym, Bones takes hold of his arm and pulls him aside. As terrible of an idea as he knows it undoubtedly is, Jim tells Khan and Spock to go ahead.

They probably won’t kill each other while he and Bones are out here, right?

Just in case, he tells his friend to make it quick.

“Jim, I want you to really think about this for a minute. Is this really a good idea?” Bones asks, none of his usual gruffness present in his tone, just this naked earnestness and concern that makes it impossible for Jim to respond with anything less than the truth. It might also have something to do with the conversation the two of them had this morning, which has stayed with him for the better part of the day. For him and Bones, who typically relate to each other with barbed compliments and affection couched in sarcasm, openly discussing their feelings - the ones they hide from the rest of the world, him with his reckless optimism, Bones with his cantankerous pessimism - is a rarity, and it always seems to leave a mark.

“Maybe not,” he admits gently, “but sometimes we have to do the things that scare us a little in order to prevent the things that scare us more.”

Bones searches his face for something, the identity of which Jim can only guess. Slowly, though, he nods. “Well, alright, then.”

“Yeah?” Jim asks.

“Yeah.”

With that, his friend turns and walks into the gym.

After waiting for a moment, watching Bones, Jim follows.

As soon as he walks inside, he takes in the tableau that has formed in their absence: Spock and Khan stand toe to toe, glaring fiercely at each other, their mouths forming tight lines, their postures screaming of violence yet to come.

Clearing his throat pointedly, Jim steps further into the room and remarks, “You know, it’s funny, but I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to be dealing with _my_ aggression issues, not either of yours.”

Khan turns to look at Jim and then he looks back at Spock, who has kept his focus on Khan the entire time. Khan raises an eyebrow, as if to ask what Spock will do now.

The moment stretches out between them, and Jim wonders if he and Bones will be forced to haul their First Officer out of the room. Finally, when the tension is only a breath away from exploding, Spock gives a curt nod and removes himself to stand against the far wall.

Bones and Jim exchange a loaded glance and then he walks over to stand next to Spock, leaving Jim and Khan standing several feet from the door.

Cool and calm once more, Khan bends down to remove his boots and socks, and then pulls off his regulation black Starfleet shirt, revealing a long, pale torso, trim and lithely muscled. When he looks at Jim with an expectant expression, Jim realizes that he has been staring, and he hastens to remove his own footwear. He leaves his old grey Starfleet Academy t-shirt on.

When Khan is satisfied, he walks over to one of the mats on the floor. Jim pads over to join him.

“So,” Jim starts, “I guess you’re going to-”

“Stop speaking.”

“What?”

As abruptly as he spoke before, Khan confirms, “You heard me, Kirk.” He goes on to say, “Unfortunately, you seem to struggle somewhat with _listening._ People can tell you something over and over and over until they are blue in the face, but you won’t listen unless their words conform to whatever you desire.”

“Hey, that’s not really-”

“It is the truth,” Khan insists. “You simply refuse to see it. You believe that you can alter reality without suffering the consequences, but you are wrong. The Admiralty tried to teach you that by taking your ship from you, but then Pike stepped in, vouching for you yet again. There are similar instances throughout the entirety of your file.”

“You read my file?”

“Think, Kirk,” Khan instructs. “Of course I read your file. I read all of the files of the senior officers involved in the events surrounding my return. Including that of the late Christopher Pike.”

The blood drains from Jim’s cheeks as Khan mentions his mentor again. _”You_ do not have the right to talk to me about him. You shouldn’t even say his _name.”_

“Why not?”

Cold fury makes him shake where he stands. He clenches his fists, tries to keep his head, even as he grits out, “You _know_ why.”

“This is true,” Khan agrees, sounding as though he is accepting a historical fact or a mathematical theorem, rather than the reality of another man’s passing.

Something in Jim snaps at that, at the way Khan regards Chris’s death so casually, because there is nothing casual about the chasm of loss he still feels, even amidst everything that has happened since.

He launches himself at the man, bringing them both to the floor. Trapping Khan with his legs around his torso, he braces one hand on the shoulder below, pulling his other hand back. In the fraction of a second before his fist lands, another hand wraps around his wrist, gently but firmly halting the movement of his arm. Jim tries to jerk out of his hold, but can’t. He tries to place his other hand around Khan’s neck, balancing with only his thighs, but that move, too, is anticipated and carefully stymied.

Rearing back, Jim tries to break Khan’s nose with his forehead, but finds himself rolled onto his back, trapped under Khan. Sitting above him, Khan thwarts his every attempt to regain the upper hand - if he ever actually had it to begin with - and Jim roars, wanting nothing more than to end this with Khan broken and bleeding out on the matt.

“Come, Kirk,” his tormentor murmurs. “You can do better than that.”

Snarling, Jim promises, “Give me a minute and I will.”

“No, I don’t believe you will. Not until you understand what you are doing wrong.”

Huffing, Jim snaps, “I didn’t take your strength into account, and I rushed in, which allowed you to get the upper hand. What is this, a training exercise?”

“Yes, and you have clearly forgotten what you are training for,” Khan states, disapproval coloring his voice. “Does your grief cloud your judgment so easily?”

Jim goes still, staring up at Khan and feeling angrily bewildered.

“It does,” Khan concludes. “This is what the admiral did to provoke you yesterday, is it not?” When he remains silent, Khan asks, “Did he say something about Admiral Pike?”

With the reminder of Admiral Komack, Jim finally recalls the reason they are here. How is it that he could have lost it so completely? He knew Khan would try to get him to react, but he let his guard down anyway, assuming there would be some sort of explanation, some way to ease into it. Instead, Khan started off by bringing up one of a handful of topics guaranteed to strike him straight through the heart. He thinks back to that moment in the brig when he realized just how well Khan knows him, and he feels like a fool. Of course that would translate to situations like this, where he will use whatever tools are at his disposal to push Jim into reacting whichever way he wants.

As much as he despises the thought of giving Khan anything right now, still smarting from the remarks about his inability to heed people’s orders or advice, and especially the easy way Khan spoke about Chris’s death, Jim still rasps, “Yeah.”

“Tell me,” Khan says intently, “Why are you so upset over this man’s death?”

“He was my friend!”

“No,” Khan breathes slowly, “clearly there was more to it than that. Passionate and impulsive as you are, even you would not tear across space and risk open war with the Klingons over the death of a friend. You are Captain James T. Kirk of the _U.S.S. Enterprise_ , so commissioned because of your actions during the aftermath of the destruction of Vulcan, and every decision you have made since has reflected that, including your actions on the planet Nibiru, because you, and everyone serving under you, believes that there has been enough death already. So there must be more to the story than what you have shared. What really led you to hunt me down, Kirk?”

Gasping, Jim lets out the truth that has been sickening his soul since he saw Chris lying there so still and bloody and pale. After he felt for a pulse that was no longer there. “It was my fault. Chris was an admiral, and then I screwed up and he had to come and take my place. He never would have been in that room if it wasn’t for me.”

“You are wrong.”

“Oh, really?” Jim challenges. “How?”

“You must let go of your guilt if you ever want to be able to move past this. It is a weakness that will leave you open to petty, small-minded men who would see you brought to your knees. His death is no more your fault than that of anyone else in that meeting,” Khan corrects. “The fault is mine.” He pauses and then says, “For what it is worth, James Kirk, I am sorry that I am responsible for killing a member of your family.”

Jim has no idea what to say to that. “You’re forgiven?” Never. He might understand Khan’s actions better now, but that cannot change the fact that they led to the loss of someone Jim loves. Rather than attempt to address it, Jim chooses to ask carefully, “Why are you doing this?”

“Come. Hesitancy does not suit you. Ask me the question to which you truly desire an answer, and you will not be left wanting.”

Jim breathes deeply before asking, “Why did you let Spock and Uhura bring you aboard my ship? Why save my life?”

Khan speaks softly, pitching his voice low enough that not even Spock’s Vulcan ears will hear. “You are a devoted, passionate man. One who has lived most of his life alone and misunderstood, and therefore understands the true value of family. I had hoped that in doing what I could to revive you, you might wish to become part of mine.”

When Jim can only continue to stare up at him and swallow against the strange dryness in his throat, Khan slowly releases his hold on his wrists. He climbs up off of the torso below him and gives Jim a hand, pulling him up off the floor effortlessly. Then he glances off to the side, and Jim follows the path of his gaze, his eyes landing on the tense figures of his friends.

Bones has a hand on Spock’s shoulder, holding him back, though the gesture would be completely ineffective without Spock’s consent; though Bones is in remarkably good shape for a human in his late thirties, he cannot hope to match Spock’s physical strength. Neither of them look particularly happy about the situation, but they seem to realize there is nothing truly wrong or they would have stalked across the room long before now.

Jim swallows again and then looks back at Khan, who returns his gaze evenly. “Now, let us begin again, and this time I want you to remember why we are here.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited to Announce: I know some of you have received replies to your comments on chapter twelve, and some of you have not. This is because I have to get up super early for work tomorrow. I promise I will respond to the rest of chapter twelve's comments some time tomorrow - probably in the evening.
> 
> Just remember: 
> 
> Everything is connected and has a purpose. It will all, eventually, make sense.

Spock tolerates the hand on his shoulder for one reason: it serves to remind him that Jim will be disappointed in him if he interferes unnecessarily. However, he is resolved that the moment Khan oversteps his bounds, Jim’s disapproval will cease to be a concern. His continuing health is of significantly greater importance.

Ultimately, it is not he who calls Khan and Jim’s interactions to an end, but the doctor. He removes his hand from Spock’s shoulder and steps forward, calling, “Alright, you two, that’s enough for today.”

Jim looks away from Khan, unclenching his hands, which formed fists 3.8 minutes prior to Dr. McCoy’s announcement. His breathing is labored, and perspiration falls down his brow in a steady stream. His eyes are heavily lidded, belying his fatigue, and he looks torn between expressing gratitude and irritation at the interruption.

Two feet away, Khan stands calmly, his posture open. Though Jim has lost his temper a total of eleven times in the past 2.3 hours, Khan remains largely unharmed, only his unkempt hair and split lip, which he received from one of only four of what Jim would call “lucky shots,” suggesting that he has exerted himself in some way.

Though it looks for a moment as if Jim will raise an objection in spite of his exhaustion, he changes his mind. This could be due to the way that he sways where he stands, which also prompts Dr. McCoy to begin walking towards him at what, for him, is a fast clip.

Spock immediately strides after him, hearing Jim say breathlessly, “I think you might be right.”

“Oh, you think I _might be_ , do you?” the doctor responds swiftly.

Upon reaching their captain, Dr. McCoy seizes the sleeve closest to him and begins marching him toward the door. Jim twists around to tell Khan, “Listen, thanks for this,” sounding sincere yet cautious. Spock fights to suppress the urge to know what it is Khan said to his friend to make him act this way.

The struggle becomes more difficult still when the man in question replies with what Spock considers unnecessary relish, “It was my pleasure, Captain,” causing Jim’s face to color right before Dr. McCoy drags him from the room.

Once again, Spock is left to walk with Khan. He finds this turn of events decidedly unsatisfactory.

Unfortunately, regardless of his opinion on the matter, Spock is the one tasked with escorting Khan back to the brig.

Glancing at the man, he orders, “Come with me.”

Together, they leave the gymnasium and begin the journey back to the brig.

Spock carefully does not take a deep breath when he hears Khan say, “I applaud you for your restraint, Spock, truly. It must have been hell, having to watch your captain struggle so and refrain from interfering.”

Focusing straight ahead, Spock says nothing. He is not the child he once was. He does not need to rise to every insult, react to every taunt.

Visibly ignoring Khan does not render him impervious to the certainty that the man is watching him with that self-satisfied expression with which Spock has grown regrettably familiar of late. Still, he maintains control of himself and continues forward. If the way he clasps his hands behind his back is tighter than normal, he does not believe the discrepancy is at all discernible to others, and is, therefore, harmless.

They enter the turbolift in silence, a state of affairs which shall hopefully continue. However, as they begin their descent, Spock’s comm unit gives an alert. He answers with a curt, “Spock here.”

_”Sorry to interrupt, sir, but should I call Lieutenant Commander Mitchell’s relief?”_

Baffled, Spock demands, “For what reason would you do this, Lieutenant? Is the Lieutenant Commander ill?”

_”Sir, wouldn’t you know? He’s been with you for the past hour.”_

“James,” Khan states with grim certainty.

Spock glances at Khan, and for the first - and likely only - time in their acquaintance, they are in accord. “Lieutenant Zhou, I want you to issue a shipwide search for Lieutenant Commander Mitchell and declare a red alert. Seal off all access points to the Shuttle Bay, and have a security team sent to the Medical Bay, phasers set to stun.”

As he hears her reply, _”Understood, sir,”_ he also hears Khan give the turbolift the correct floor for the Medical Bay. They begin ascending, and neither of them can stop themselves from projecting the thought that they will not reach Jim in time. Everything takes on a red tint as the red alert sounds throughout the ship, and Lieutenant Zhou’s voice comes over the communications system. The levels pass too slowly, regardless of the fact that logic dictates that the turbolift is traveling at the same speed it has since it was built.

When the door slides open, Khan is the first to exit the turbolift, with Spock following immediately after. Officers move swiftly out of their way, not out of deference, but out of a desire to avoid a collision; the two of them began running as soon as they cleared the turbolift door, Spock taking the lead due to his rote knowledge of the ship’s layout.

They reach the Medical Bay only to discover that it is, to all appearances, vacant. Not pausing, Spock makes for the private room where Jim is still staying. In the hallway, approximately three feet from Jim’s door, Dr. McCoy lies on the floor at an unnatural angle, unconscious.

He glances at Khan, who whispers at a register only his Vulcan ears can hear, “Go on. I will remain with the doctor.” When Spock cannot fully contain his surprise, Khan explains, “He is precious to your captain. It is what he would want. Now go. We may already be too late.”

Nodding sharply, Spock flattens himself against the wall and hits the release for the door he believes stands between him and his friend. He does not know what to expect when the door slides open, and countless scenarios occur to him in the 2.7 seconds it takes for him to register what he is seeing.

On the floor, Jim has Mitchell lying on his front, his hands trapped behind his back by Jim’s right arm. His right knee presses into the Lieutenant Commander’s lower back and keeps him stationary. Any attempts to move his upper back are quelled by the hypo Jim holds to his neck with his left hand.

“Spock?” Jim asks, not looking away from the location of the hypo. “That you?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Bones alright?”

Though he wishes he could say otherwise, Spock reports, “Unknown.” After a pause, he admits, “Khan is with him.”

He sees Jim process that and then take a deep breath before slowly letting it out, visibly struggling with the two sides of himself. “Right, okay,” he starts, his voice determined in spite of his evident turmoil. “This is how it’s going to go. You are going to come nerve pinch this asshole, and then we’ll have security put him in the brig, because if they don’t, I will kill him.”

Hastening to comply, Spock steps over to Jim’s position and kneels down. His fingers find the necessary nerves instinctively, and he presses the tips of them down. Mitchell’s body falls limp, but Jim waits 6.3 seconds before handing over the hypo and removing himself from his captive’s prone form. He sways upon standing, more severely than he did in the gymnasium, and Spock moves to help him relocate to the biobed, where he lays down without protest. Spock, understandably, finds this alarming.

Still, when Jim glances toward Lieutenant Commander Mitchell and waves, saying, “Get him out of my sight, Spock. Please,” Spock pushes aside his concern for his friend’s health and does as he says, knowing the control Jim has over himself is tenuous at best. He throws Mitchell over his shoulder and departs from the room. Though he intends to place him upon one of the biobeds and make use of the restraints, he discovers, upon entering the main room of the Medical Bay, that it is unnecessary. The security team has arrived.

He passes his burden off to Ensigns Saradoc and Akbar, ordering them to take Mitchell to the brig. Then, he instructs the remaining four security officers to search the entirety of the Medical Bay for Dr. M’Benga and the nurses who should be on their shift.

Once Saradoc and Akbar take their leave of the Medical Bay, Spock turns back to face the place where he noted Dr. McCoy laying out of his peripheral vision as he carried Mitchell into the room. Somewhat remarkably, Khan has remained with him, and is in the process of bandaging the open wound on the back of the doctor’s head.

Finishing his self-appointed task, Khan steps away and looks at Spock expectantly. Though Spock will never find it in himself to trust the man, his actions in response to the attack on the doctor and Jim cannot be ignored, and so he tells him, “Though he is fatigued, the captain appears to be otherwise unharmed.”

Khan sucks in a breath and looks away. The move is not quick enough to conceal his relief.

Spock decides that he has neither the time nor the inclination to ponder over the reaction. His focus now rests solely upon discovering the purpose behind Lieutenant Commander Mitchell’s recent actions.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update is dedicated to Grace, who very sweetly gave me the nudge I needed to get this chapter finished. Thanks sweetheart, and I hope Sigerson continues to perform admirably.
> 
> To the rest of my ducklings, thank you all for your patience. This chapter was a bit of a bear, and I hope the wait wasn't too aggravating.
> 
> As some of you may notice, I'm adding another chapter to the count. There's one more after this, and then the epilogue.

It is entirely illogical that Spock should have an aversion to the brig. However, he finds that he has spent far too much time visiting that area of the ship in the past two weeks, and he wishes fervently to find a way to render such visits unnecessary as soon as possible.

Nevertheless, he enters the brig and walks over to stand before the cell where Lieutenant Commander Mitchell is currently being held. He observes the man as he sits, placidly staring at the opposite wall. For someone who has been caught in the act of assaulting his captain, to say nothing of the fact that he rendered Dr. McCoy unconscious, Mitchell appears far too calm, as though he has no fear of the consequences which will result from his actions. Spock wills away the thought that this behavior bodes poorly for the interrogation to follow.

Before he opens his mouth to announce his presence, the lieutenant commander turns his head toward Spock, his sharp, pale eyes focusing upon him with some indiscernible intent. “You gonna stand there and watch me all day, Commander, or are you gonna get this thing started?”

“To which thing are you referring, Lieutenant Commander?”

“Oh, that’s cute, Mister Spock, really,” Mitchell remarks. “I can see why Jimmy likes you so much. He always swore you were a sassy little bastard, but I never believed it until now.”

“As fascinating as your estimation of my demeanor is,” Spock responds with an unavoidable amount of asperity, “that is not, in fact, why I am here.”

“Never thought it was.” He watches Spock silently for 4.7 seconds and then says, “Go ahead and ask me whatever you want, and I’ll tell you what I know.”

Caught off guard, Spock raises an eyebrow and observes, “That is unexpectedly forthright of one in your position.”

Huffing a soft laugh, Mitchell leans back against the wall, placing his hands behind his head in a clear display of nonchalance. “Not so much. See, I’ve already been caught in the act, so there’s no point in trying to hide anything. Besides, no matter what I say, you can’t touch me.”

“You seem remarkably convinced of this,” Spock notes, struggling against the growing inclination to become alarmed. Perhaps the lieutenant commander’s attitude is intended to discomfit. Spock believes that Jim would term such a tactic “throwing him off of his game.” As unfortunate as it is that the ploy seems to be working, he has seen it done better in situations where he and the captain were at a far greater disadvantage than the officer sitting in the cell before him now.

Shrugging, Mitchell says, “There’s really nothing remarkable about it. I had orders. I tried to follow them. I failed.”

Perhaps a certain degree of alarm is warranted after all. “You say you were acting under orders. From whom did those orders originate?”

“You can’t figure it out?”

“Regardless of whether I can or cannot, I want you to tell me.”

Everything in Spock desires desperately to be proven incorrect in his induction, and he cannot find it within himself to consider such a desire illogical. The repercussions, should he be correct, will devastate the public’s faith in Starfleet, as there is no way that Spock will allow this gross violation of protocol to go unacknowledged. If justice is not carried out properly for this, he will have Nyota contact every major media outlet throughout the Federation, and he will make the ones responsible yield.

Mitchell rolls his eyes, sighing as though Spock is acting unnecessarily difficult. “Admiral Komack. Yesterday he gave me the order to take Jimmy out. And before Komack, it was Admiral Marcus.”

It is everything that Spock has feared since Jim received his commission. In the face of this revelation, the only word Spock can bring himself to say is, “Explain.”

“Look, why do you think I transferred onto this ship? Before I came here, the commander on the _Republic_ was scheduled to retire in five months. I would have taken his place. But instead, I got orders from higher up to transfer to the _Enterprise_ and keep an eye on her captain.” For the first time since Spock entered the brig, the lieutenant commander appears conflicted. “I didn’t want to do it. I’ve always liked Jimmy - saved his life a time or two when he served his semester on the _Republic_ , and he made sure to repay the favor - but orders are orders, and I serve Starfleet, not Jim Kirk.”

Although Spock does his best to avoid ascribing judgement to members of the crew, he finds Mitchell’s character lacking in light of the man’s attitude towards a person he supposedly considers a friend. To Spock, who has only one friend, such disregard for similar relationships is anathema to him. He sees again in his mind as Jim’s hand comes to rest upon the plexyglass, remembers the helpless rage and the endless desolation, and he simply cannot comprehend.

However, this is not the time to reflect on such matters. Removing his hands from behind his back, Spock brings his communicator four centimeters from his lips and inquires, “I trust that you heard everything, Admiral?”

He watches dispassionately as the lieutenant commander sits up straighter and goes pale at the voice that replies, _”Loud and clear, Mister Spock. We’ll get this taken care of, don’t you worry.”_

“You have my sincerest thanks, Admiral Barnett,” Spock informs him, even as he continues to gaze at Lieutenant Commander Mitchell, “as well, I am certain, as the captain’s.”

_”You just make sure Kirk continues to recover. Starfleet needs its flagship’s captain, especially now.”_

“Understood, sir,” Spock replies, unspeakably grateful that it was this admiral who he thought to contact after departing from the Medical Bay, and that the man was available and willing to help.

_”Glad to hear it, Commander. Barnett out.”_

After flipping his communicator closed, Spock says, “Thank you, Lieutenant Commander Mitchell, for your cooperation.”

Mitchell shakes his head, a dark, helpless laugh falling from his bloodless lips. “Nicely done, Mister Spock. Touche.”

Watching him lean forward and place his head in his hands, Spock declares, “You should not have tried to harm my captain.”

“Yeah,” Mitchell agrees, his voice muffled. “I’m starting to get that.”

Turning on his heel, Spock takes his leave. His work here is done.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the lengthy delay between updates. Aside from my fluctuating work schedule making writing time a bit hard to come by, there have been many permutations of this chapter, none of which will ever see the light of day. 
> 
> My hope is to have the epilogue up before next Monday. We'll see how that goes.

Somehow, it took stumbling into his room in Sickbay and then hearing his best friend’s choked-off cry of alarm, whirling around to rescue him, only to see the door sliding open and Gary launching himself at Jim with a hypo in one outstretched hand, to realize that something was not right on his ship. Even though he knew that something was wrong elsewhere, knew that there was discontent brewing outside of his crew.

He knows Spock thinks that he has managed to shield him from most of the ugly rumors floating around the ‘fleet, regarding the admiralty’s less than sterling reception of his performance in the captain’s chair in the time since his field promotion was upheld, but Jim is neither deaf nor disconnected. What he is might actually be worse. As much as he honestly believed he had seen it all, that nothing could shock James T. Kirk anymore, he was still stupid enough to hope that the disapproval would die down after he and his crew proved themselves, and that the admiralty’s frustration could not reach him out in the black. The _Enterprise_ is his loyal Lady and his fortress. No matter what happens, he is safe while he is here.

Others would call it hubris. Jim calls it being naive.

Not even Khan managed to fully eradicate that feeling of security when he beamed Jim, Carol, and Scotty aboard, only to send the _Enterprise_ even further into chaos. Khan wasn’t one of his men. Khan was different. But then he found himself wrestling with Gary Mitchell, hearing the guy grit out, “Sorry Jimmy, but orders are orders,” and he realized just how childish that his hope had been.

Something fragile and small breaks a little when he thinks about it, about yet another in a long line of disillusionments, even though Jim thought life had killed all of the fragile parts of him long before this. For some reason, the universe loves nothing more than proving him wrong.

So as he lays on his biobed, he imagines berating himself for hours on end, worrying about Bones and the missing medical staff, (He should have insisted upon looking for them as soon as they entered Sickbay and found it dark and deserted, he knows that - knew it even at the time - but he had been, and still is, _so tired_.) and thinking about the way he had felt something pushing in his mind, urging him to give up and let Gary finish the job, and then pushing back and hearing Gary cry out and let go, allowing Jim to pin him down and wrench the hypo out of his hand. He does not expect for the adrenaline to complete its course, to feel his eyes slide shut, to run out of time to think so much as a goodbye to the waking world.

The whole ship is devoid of color, swathed in lifeless black and white, a dull, terrifying mirror image of what the _Enterprise_ should be. Bones stares anxiously down at him before he backs away, wondering aloud what he has done. Jim tries to tell him that he is safe; he’ll take care of his friend and whatever Bones thinks he has done wrong, he wants to promise that he will to try and fix it, that they _can_ fix it, together. The words won’t come.

Confused and scared, he wanders the ship for days, trapped in his own mind, unable to speak to the people he loves: Chekov, Uhura, Sulu, the elder Spock, Scotty, his own Spock. He tries to reach them all as they pass him by, but they stare at him as if they are seeing a ghost.

Horrified and lonely, Jim runs.

He boards a shuttle and flies away, still surrounded by shades of grey. Gary beams aboard his shuttle.

They fight.

His hands find their way around Gary’s neck.

In the seconds before he can choke the life out of Gary, who has somehow morphed into Admiral Komack, a voice calls his name. He ignores it, continues squeezing.

_”James.”_

Sweating and gasping, he wakes.

Beside his bed, Khan sits in the chair that is usually against the back wall, his hands folded in his lap. The only signs of his concern sit in the furrow of his brow, the intensity of his focus. Jim is still baffled that Khan feels concern for him at all. This is the man who tried to destroy his family, and yet he wants Jim to join his own? Admittedly, Khan had been under the impression that he was all alone in the universe at the time that he tried to destroy Jim’s ship and all of the amazing, unbelievable people aboard her, but that cannot change the fact that he was willing to do it.

It is too much to think about now. Perhaps it always will be.

Clearing his throat, Jim sits up slowly. “Spock know you’re in here unsupervised?”

There, a flash of amusement appears and is gone. “He believes I am still with Dr. McCoy, I am sure.”

“But you’re not.”

“I see that your First Officer is not the only one given to stating the obvious,” Khan observes, his voice a soft, velveteen drawl, his lips curled up almost imperceptibly at the corners.

Jim makes a face almost against his will, and mutters, “That’s not what I meant.”

Relenting, Khan tells him, “Your security officers were able to locate your missing medical staff. It seems Mitchell stunned Dr. M’Benga and the nurses on shift and proceeded to hide them all in the supply closet. Once they were revived, they recovered quickly, and I believe that none of them suffered any ill effects. They were, however, quite disturbed by the state of Dr. McCoy, who remains unconscious.”

“Let me guess,” Jim starts, his voice dry, “you snuck back here while they were distracted.”

“Someone needs to keep an eye on you. Mitchell may not be the only one aboard the _Enterprise_ with plans to harm her captain.” For a man feigning innocence, Khan looks far too much like the cat that ate the cream. Jim tells himself that the expression is not in any way attractive.

To distract himself, Jim says, “So now I have a bodyguard with a moral compass that doesn’t point due north. Great. Just what I always wanted.”

At this, Khan blinks slowly and then leans back in his chair. He crosses one ankle over the other and levels Jim with a long look. It drags on until he declares, “You know what it is I want, and that it is in no way to be your bodyguard. You should also know that I am willing to wait as long as it takes.”

“As long as it takes?” Jim repeats, disbelief coloring every word. “You sure about that?”

Rather than answer his question, Khan poses one of his own. “How old do you think I am, James?”

His brow furrowing, Jim looks him over and hazards an uncertain and slightly put out, “Forty? Forty-one?”

His mouth sliding into a satisfied smile, Khan asks rhetorically, “So young? No. If we were to disregard the amount of time I spent in cryogen, I would be nearly seventy. So, you see, time is somewhat relative for me, as it may eventually become for you.”

Though the information is startling, and the implications are, to borrow a phrase, _fascinating_ , Jim shakes his head, pushing it aside. “You know that you won’t be able to stay here, right? As far as Starfleet’s concerned, you are _persona non grata_. Even if you are willing to wait, you’ll have to do your waiting where no one can find you.”

“Although I am not normally given to expressions of optimism, in this instance, I have faith that you will be able to find a suitable arrangement,” Khan pauses significantly, “for myself, and for my crew.”

He could say no. Khan killed Chris. He killed plenty of other people, too. Stopping Admiral Marcus and saving Jim’s life - it’s a pittance. But Jim does not want to live in a reality where life is tit for tat. That isn’t what he believes in, isn’t an honor to his mentor’s memory in any way. Beyond that, though, there is simply something compelling about Khan. There always has been, from the moment their eyes first met, Khan in his shuttle, Jim staring out from the ruined Starfleet building. At the time, it was easy to disregard the frission of heat he felt as a byproduct of the rage over what Khan had done. That explanation loses more and more weight as the days pass. He thinks of their hands meeting, the feeling of security the memory still gives him.

The incongruity of his feelings bothers him.

So he ignores them.

An idea begins to coalesce in his mind, and he takes a moment to note that Spock is going to be truly pissed at him this time, before he says, “You know what? I think I already have.”

He has the fleeting thought that Khan must truly mean it when he says that he has faith in him, because all he does is tilt his head forward and ask, “What do you need?”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. Do any of you remember me saying about a month ago - has it been more than a month? I don't even know at this point - that I would hopefully update this before the following Monday? Yeah, obviously that didn't happen.
> 
> I won't offer any excuses, but I will beg that you all resist the urge to hunt me down and maim and/or kill me. I like living.
> 
> In other news: We're finally done! 
> 
> Thank you so much to all of you who have read this, left kudos or comments, and made this one of the most enjoyable forays into fanfiction I've ever had. All of you have been so lovely, and I really appreciate all the love and support this project received.

_Eleven Months Later_

The hiss that slips past his lips is entirely uncontainable. What, exactly, has Carol been doing that has given her such a strong grip? Furthermore, how long has her voice been capable of reaching that decibel? 

As he strives to hold onto his dignity and remain as supportive as possible in the face of the bruising force with which his friend is currently crushing his hand, he thinks about everything that has led him here, with one month until the start of his crew's five-year mission.

After his talk with Khan in Sickbay, Jim contacted a certain old friend on New Vulcan. It took a bit of convincing, but ultimately, the elder Spock agreed to support the plan Jim had come up with in order to not only keep Khan and his crew safe from potentially interested parties, but also away from the temptation of slipping into old habits. First, though, he had to ask, “Why this man, Jim?”

“What do you mean?”

The elder Spock stared at him meaningfully, though his eyes were, as ever, kind.

Still, Jim had to glance away from that knowing gaze before he could come up with an answer. Eventually, he swallowed and turned his gaze back to the screen. “I don’t know how to explain it, Spock. There’s just something about him that feels right to me.” He sighed heavily and then said, “I wish I could give you more, especially because I’m asking you to do something huge, but that’s all I’ve got.”

“Jim,” Spock Prime began gently, “if you say that it is right, then I can ask no more.”

“You could, actually,” he replied. “You could ask a lot.”

His voice warm, the wizened half-Vulcan acknowledged, “Perhaps you are correct, and yet I find I am content regardless.”

Was it actually possible for anyone to meet Spock’s elder counterpart and not love him? Jim didn’t think so. “Thank you, old friend.”

“There is nothing to thank me for,” he dismissed kindly.

“I don’t know about that.”

It was time to call in a debt which, frankly, he had never intended to use. Nevertheless, the Vulcan High Council seemed grateful to have some way to repay Jim for what he and his crew did in the aftermath of their home world’s destruction. They agreed to give Khan and his people sanctuary and keep them away from prying eyes, and in turn, Khan would help the people of Vulcan however he was able.

When he told his command crew the idea, Spock came dangerously close to having an actual expression. Jim might have enjoyed his ire a little too much, especially when his friend was forced to acknowledge that it was actually a fairly decent plan. With the transporters back up to their usual specifications - which were slightly outside of Starfleet regulations, but such things were generally not discussed where anyone other than his command crew might overhear - Scotty was able to transport their illicit cargo to New Vulcan with little fuss.

That done, it was time to set those in charge of Starfleet at ease. 

In the wake of Mitchell and Komack’s betrayal, the admiralty was understandably preoccupied with cleaning house. A handful of other Starfleet officers were dishonorably discharged from the service in the weeks that followed. Amidst all the chaos, _Enterprise_ finally docked, absent seventy-two key individuals. 

It became apparent after a series of probing questions that Amiral Marcus was one of only a few who knew the true nature of the torpedoes with which he had armed Jim’s ship. The admiral’s subterfuge made it almost laughably easy to cover up the continued existence of the crew of the _Botany Bay_ , for which everyone in-the-know was thoroughly thankful.

No one was surprised when Jim and Spock’s field promotions were upheld, although they were shocked that Jim decided to spend the year designated to repairing and upgrading his ship attending command courses and teaching advanced combat. The events surrounding Khan’s attack on Earth and the revelation of Admiral Marcus’s betrayal had taught Jim that being prepared for every eventuality is impossible, but he felt that he owed it to his crew, and to Chris Pike, to try. Spock and Uhura took up teaching posts in the linguistics department, which was a welcome relief for the commander who had previously been in charge of the advanced courses; their temporary positions gave her the chance to seek out a more permanent replacement. Bones split his time between catching up with his daughter Joanna and dropping in to nag Jim about his health after giving guest lectures at Starfleet Medical (which he hated with a passion, but certain obligations are unavoidable, even for a grumpy country doctor). Chekov and Sulu took advantage of the time off, choosing to sight-see and visit each other’s families. Scotty, of course, stayed to oversee and assist in the _Enterprise’s_ repairs. Carol Marcus remained in San Francisco to help Starfleet develop weapons without relying upon unethically obtained aides. When Jim asked her about her decision, she told him that she felt like it was a way to make up for her father’s actions, as well as a way to serve the Federation and gain recognition in her chosen field.

A week into their stay on earth, Jim tracked Carol down and asked her out on a date. 

She said yes. 

It was easier - safer - to slip into a relationship with Carol than to contemplate giving into what felt like an inevitability with Khan. Jim wasn’t ready.

Things were good for a while. They had fun together, and they each got the chance to experience what it was like to spend time with someone who could keep up with them on both intellectual and intimate levels. Then, Carol sat him down one evening and told him it was probably time to call it quits. When he asked her why, she smiled sadly and told him that she thought he was wonderful - a good man, who was on his way to becoming a great captain, and who knew how to have a good time - but that she always felt as though he wasn’t living completely in the moment whenever they were together. “I think you want to be, Jim, but you’re just not as invested in this relationship as I am, and we both deserve something better,” she explained. Jim tried not to feel guilty as his mind immediately went to the comm frequency he knew he would be using a few hours later. He hadn’t really thought he had been so obvious.

They parted as friends after that, with neither of them too worse for wear, though they both agreed that they needed space for a time.

He should have known that things were never that simple. 

About a month later, Carol contacted him and asked if they could meet somewhere to talk. They had lunch together at a little bistro they liked to frequent on the weekends while they were dating. What followed was a meal that Jim honestly could not remember eating, and a conversation that would change both of their lives forever. “P-pregnant?” he asked. “You’re sure?”

She nodded, and told him, “As sure as four positive home tests and a test at the doctor’s office can be.”

It was difficult to breathe. “And what do you - I mean how do you want to -”

Taking pity on him, Carol said, “I’m keeping it.” In a move reminiscent of their time together, she reached across the table and took his hand in her own. “After all, the world could use a few more Kirks, don’t you think?”

Jim made a strangled sound and then promised, “I’ll be there every step of the way if you want me to be. Whatever you need, whatever you think best, that’s what we’ll do.”

She smiled kindly, not surprised in the least. “I know.”

A little while later saw Jim stumbling into the officer’s quarters he’d been assigned for the time being, and sliding down to the floor as soon as the door slid closed. He pulled out his comm unit and prayed desperately that there would be an answer on the other end. As soon as he heard the voice on the other end speak his name, he started sobbing. He couldn’t help it. There was a little life forming that had half his DNA, that was half of Jim. He tried to catch his breath, to calm his tears long enough to get it all out, but couldn’t manage it until he heard Khan’s calm, steady voice tell him, _”Slow down. Take a good, deep breath. Yes, just like that.”_ There were several beats of silence as Jim continued to inhale and exhale as slowly as possible, and then, _”Now, try again.”_

Gradually, the whole thing came out, and it was such a relief, being able to share all the jumbled feelings - the hopes, the fears, the questions - and know that Khan was listening. “Thanks,” he said finally, feeling like he had talked himself out. “You know, for being there. Just - thanks.”

 _”You are always welcome,”_ Jim was assured. Miraculously, he believed it.

After that, life was a whirlwind of classes and doctor’s visits and trips to the baby store. Jim would later admit to Bones that he teared up the first time he saw their baby on the monitor during Carol’s first sonogram. 

Every once in a while, Jim and Carol would talk about baby names, but they always wrapped up those discussions with the general feeling that they would know the right name when the baby actually came. 

Carol spent the last eight weeks of her pregnancy on bedrest, due to unexpected complications, but up until that point, she had still been working with Starfleet. 

Their child is probably going to be an absolute handful. Neither of his parents like to stay inactive for long.

He supposes they are about to find out, because here they are, at 11:00 hundred hours on a Wednesday morning, one push away from meeting their little boy for the first time. As Carol pushes that final time, she very nearly breaks Jim’s hand. 

He doesn’t even care. More than the pain in his hand, more than the exhaustion of having been at Starfleet Medical for the past twenty-three hours, Jim knows the indignant wails of their son as he makes his first appearance in the world beyond Carol’s womb, and they are the most beautiful sounds he has ever heard.

After that, life exists only in the moments between laying eyes on their son and then having him swept away to be cleaned. He tries to focus back on Carol, wanting to help her through the afterbirth, but all he can think about is the next time he can hear their baby’s cry, the moment he can hold him in his arms. He catches Carol’s exhausted gaze and knows she is waiting for the same thing. With the hand she has yet to destroy, he pushes her sweaty hair out of her eyes. 

He kneels down beside the bed then. “Thank you.”

Blinking languidly, Carol murmurs, “Mmm. I’d say you were welcome, but I don’t think I want to do that again.”

He laughs in rueful sympathy. “That was pretty rough, wasn’t it?”

“Worth it, though,” she grins, the tired stretch of it matching the small crows feet at the corners of her eyes.

A nurse comes in with their little guy in a soft cotton swaddling cloth, and Jim moves out of the way, watching anxiously as she places him in Carol’s arms. She leaves them alone after telling them that another nurse will come by soon in order to show Carol how to nurse the baby. 

They both stare down at him, and after a while, Jim asks, “So what should we call him?”

“David,” she says with certainty. “His name is David.”

Looking at the perfect melding of him and Carol, Jim thinks that David sounds exactly right. He can’t wait to tell everyone.

As he watches David let out a tiny yawn, Jim feels the weight of his comm unit in his right pocket. He knows exactly who he wants to contact first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want the soundtrack for this fanfic, you can find it here on my youtube channel: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x-3_id7UbCk&list=PLkMWgFEXC1TOF3k960jjQcJrHNo_TFl7-
> 
> The final song, _Surrounded_ , is what I listened to during the majority of the time I spent writing the epilogue - which I actually wrote off and on for weeks, never feeling completely satisfied. Hopefully it didn't turn out too poorly, in the end.


End file.
